Predictability
by Y. Kuang
Summary: Lily Evans, in her seventh year at Hogwarts, comes to terms with life, love and herself, deals with hardships with her own special brand of humor and sarcasm, and learns a few valuable lessons along the way. Chpt 26 up!
1. Part One Seventh Year and Beyond

Chapter 1

(A/N) This is my second L/J fic! It follows some of the plot line of my other story, Perfect Prefects. Not all, but some of it. This is going to be a lot longer, too. I know it starts out slow, but it gets better, I promise!

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily Evans, seventh year, sat in the last compartment of the Hogwarts Express.

In general, she was pretty. Beautiful, in fact. She was wearing a plain white turtleneck sweater, and a long, black skirt, as she had obviously just come from some other sort of formal occasion, from which she hadn't had time to change aside from her top. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she was bent over a book of some sort.

As always.

James Potter had, of course, noticed Lily Evans' beauty. It was hard not to, as she had only been another eleven year old kid with braided pigtails and braces on September first when she first arrived at the school. Now, though, her braces were gone, and her smile was much better for it. Not that James had ever been on the receiving end of her smile. Not now, not ever, he figured. 

James Potter was a good kid, with a few flaws here and there. Heir of the Potter family fortune, he was very commonly the talk of the girls of the school. Tall and handsome, quite a good Chaser for the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team, also the team captain. 

The two of them immensely disliked each other for various reasons that would take too much time to list, so we'll just say that they immensely disliked each other. 

They were also, however, extremely alike.

Lily was a top student, possibly the only one able to rival James' grades. She was also muggle born, meaning she wasn't from a wizarding family. That, by no means, stopped her talent in classes. She was the best at Charms, the best at Astronomy. She aced Ancient Runes, was probably the only one not to fall asleep during History of Magic, and excelled in Potions. The only subject she wasn't one of the top students at was Transfiguration, where she was still maintaining an above average level.

James, too, was a top student, and also excelled in every subject, particularly at Transfiguration. The only class he had trouble with was, oddly enough, Lily's _best_ subject, Charms. The two were tied in first on nearly every subject, as a constant, on-going battle to achieve the better grade. One would get ahead for a while, gloat, brag, and such, but it wasn't long before the other would catch up. James was also a pureblood, from a wizarding family.

However, while James was quite good with the females of the school, and left quite a trail of broken hearts behind him, Lily was the exact opposite. She had never quite understood boys, from why they ate so much, to why they chose to act the way they did. Of course, as she _was_ one of the most beautiful and popular girls, a few brave boys would attempt to ask her out.

They were seen at the hospital a few days later, suffering various injuries.

Needless to say, neither James nor Lily were on the best of terms with each other.

*~*~*~*~*

"You should change, y'know."

Lily looked up, finding the person who had addressed her.

"Potter."

"You should change into uniform," James rephrased.

"_Uniformis_," she said simply, pointing her wand at herself.

Her turtleneck was instantly replaced with the school uniform, a dark blue pleated skirt, a dark blue sweater with the Hogwarts crest embroidered on it, over a white blouse.

"You were saying?"

James frowned. Being the horrible Charms student he was, he couldn't have even _tried_ to attempt that, as he would have ended up looking extremely disorganized.

"Uh," James cleared his throat, "Just thought that I should remind you, as I _am_ Head Boy."

Lily stared.

He couldn't help but feel a bit smug; his mother had been quite proud when the letter had arrived, and since then, he'd been dying to tell someone the news. Even if it _was_ Lily Evans, it was still _someone_.

"Please repeat that," she said, as if unable to comprehend to such an idea.

Which was reasonable, as James and his friends were quite the troublemakers, and pranksters known throughout the school. 

"I said," James said clearly, as if he was talking to a small child, "that I am Head Boy."

"That can't be possible," Lily replied.

"Why not?"

"Because _I'm_ Head Girl."

*~*~*~*~*

"… And it gives me great pleasure to announce this year's Head Boy and Girl, Mr. James Potter, and Miss Lily Evans!" Dumbledore said, as the students in the Great Hall applauded.

"I would like to say that I can guarantee a nice, quiet, pleasant, all together _quaint_ school year," James said to the students. "But… as most of you know me, my friends, and our reputation, that's not very likely."

With that brief statement, many of the girls swooned and cheered, while Lily stood and took his place.

"I'm Lily Evans, for you all that don't know me. And a note to all you first years, don't worry, Potter was joking… I hope. Anyway, I'm not giving you any campaign promises, but I'll definitely come to the best of my abilities to give you all a great year… Even _with_ an idiot like James Potter for a Head Boy."

A few murmurs of laughter followed, accompanied by applause.

*~*~*~*~*

"Lily, you lucky witch! You never told me you were Head Girl!" Lily's best friend, Evelyn McDaniels exclaimed.

"What I wouldn't _give_ to be in your position!" her other friend, Bella, squealed. Quite the romantic. "Hours and hours with James Potter!"

"I hope to spend the least amount of required time with him," Lily said stiffly.

"Boy, is he dreamy…"

"Excuse me while I continue my process of indigestion privately," Lily said, disgustedly.

*~*~*~*~*

"James, you lucky guy! You get to work with dear ol' Lily!" Sirius Black said to his friend.

"Yippee," James said bitterly.

"She's _hot_, get that in your over intelligent mind, James," Sirius said, knocking at James' forehead.

"I feel sick."

"She _is_ hot, you know," Sirius persisted.

"I honestly thought you had better taste than that, Sirius," James frowned.

"Than what?" Lily asked, rounding the stairs that led from the Seventh year girl's dormitories to the Gryffindor Common Room. "I'm going to the library, by the way. I've got to brush up my Transfiguration."

"Transfiguration is one of the easiest subjects on Earth," James scoffed.

"Charms isn't exactly restricted to rocket scientists, either," Lily shot back.

"You… You just aren't worth the breath, Evans."

"Like you are?"

"Most definitely."

"Don't count on it."

*~*~*~*~*

James Potter infuriated her.

Lily sighed, seeking her usual refuge in the library from her stress, and, of course, James Potter. The library was one place he would _not_ be found in, except for a while during fifth year, researching on animagi for unknown reasons, and for the final exams of the year. 

She was on good terms with Madame Pince, the taut lipped, middle aged, strict librarian. 

"Hey, cutie," a sandy haired Ravenclaw said.

Lily jerked up from her book. "Come closer and I'll snap your neck," she said invitingly.

"Sure you will."

Lily stood up. "Don't say you weren't warned." She twisted his arm around to the back of his back, so that it was stuck there in a bizarre way even after she let go.

"Owowowowow!"

"Crybaby," Lily muttered as he ran out to the nurse.

"Getting a head start on your homework already?" Evelyn asked, plopping down next to Lily.

"No. It's just that this year should be harder than ever, and I don't want to be left behind everyone else."

Evelyn laughed, immediately shushed by Madame Pince. "Lily, if you're behind, then we have the minds of slugs. C'mon, Lily, have some _fun_, for once."

Lily drew a mock gasp of horror. "_Fun_? What is this _horrid_ word, _fun_? I'm too busy being busy, and besides, who needs _fun_, when you've got being snooty and snobbish?"

Evelyn giggled, then was shooed out of the library.

*~*~*~*~*

"The constellations of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor?"

"A bear, professor."

"Excellent. And the name of the dog constellation?"

"Sirius."

Sirius jerked up from his midmorning snooze. "Wha…?"

Lily frowned in disapproval.

"I was talking, Mr. Black, about the dog constellation, Sirius," Professor Sinistra said. "Your namesake, I presume. However, the questions I have asked you are commonly known to muggle children at the age of seven. You, I remind, are _seventeen_. Tell me, what is the technical term for the North Star?"

"Uh…"

"Northern lights. Technical terms for them?"

"Uh…?"

"How many constellations make up the night sky known to muggles?"

"Uh…"

"I had hoped that you would have improved since the last time I'd seen you," Sinistra said.

"Ask Lily," Sirius mumbled sleepily, before dozing off again.

*~*~*~*~*

"Phobia Charms, what are they?"

Lily's hand shot up. "They form an unbalance at the brain's nerve center, used to intimidate opponents during wizarding duels."

"Excellent, Miss Evans," Professor Flitwick beamed at his prize student. "I will allow you to demonstrate a duel with the student of your choice, using Phobia Charms only."

Lily smiled, getting up to the front of the class. "How about… James Potter?"

James stood up and walked to the center, opposing Lily. 

"On the count of three," Professor Flitwick announced, as the students watched. "One, two, three! Duel!"

"_Enlargio!_" Lily shouted.

Prepared to sprout horns, James breathed a sigh of relief, then saw a seven-foot tall spider.

"Too unobservant, Evans, I'm not afraid of spiders," he smirked.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Hmm. Too cocky. _Phobis Arachnid!_"

"Ahhhh!" 

"That was very good, Miss Evans!"

The professor waved his wand, and the spider disappeared.

James straightened. "_Phobis Claustria!_"

Lily glanced around. "In case you haven't noticed, Potter, claustrophobia wouldn't bother me, as we're out in the open."

"_Flamitis!_" James muttered.

Lily's hair burst into flames. "_Sandinone_," she pointed at her hair, which immediately ceased flaming. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Lily smirked as James rose higher towards the ceiling. "Something we learned in first year. To my memory, you were passing a note to Sirius Black when the counter curse was explained. "_Phobis Acro!_"

"Ahhh!"

"As usual, Miss Evans, excellent use of the Acrophobia Charm!"

Lily smiled, and brought James down.

Though the look in her green eyes showed she would have _loved_ to leave him there.

*~*~*~*~*

"Owl Post," Lily announced the next morning at breakfast. 

Other than her usual copy of the _Daily Prophet_, a wizarding newspaper which she had subscribed to, she had no mail.

Next to her, James was busily unwrapping his daily package of sweets and tricks, sent by owl from the house-elves. 

Muttering something that sounded like, "_Immature_," Lily stalked to the Prefects' bathroom.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Soooo…. What'd you think? Well, go on to the second chapter!


	2. Coup De Tats and Hearts of Steel

Chapter 2

(A/N) The story's progressing!

Disclaimer: I own the plot, Evelyn, and Bella.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi, Prongsie," Sirius said, edging over to his friend's table, the next twenty-four hours later at breakfast.

"Huh?" James frowned, spooning some of the soggy cereal in his bowl.

"Prongs? Antlers? Honestly, mate, how thick can you get?"

"Very," a chilly voice behind them said. 

"Hi, Lady Lily!" Sirius greeted.

"I _don't_ want to know," Lily sighed, taking out a brush to straighten her wavy auburn hair.

"Sounds like a fork," James said, as if Lily had never arrived.

"Except forks are sharper than you," Lily said, now pulling it back into her usual low ponytail in a plain scrunchy.

James scowled into his soggy cereal. Even when she didn't know the topic, Lily could manipulate the conversation into an insult towards him. 

"Oh, sod off, Evans," he said finally.

"Took you long enough to get that out," Lily said simply, putting away her brush.

"Shut up."

"_You_," she said, pausing for effect, "are an _idiot_."

"Oh yeah, real original!" he said as she picked up her books and left for her first class, early as always.

*~*~*~*~*

After an exhausting day that passed quickly for some, and slowly for others, all the students trudged up to the Great Hall for their dinner.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, pointing at an unopened envelope on James' right, while stuffing a sandwich down his mouth, as Lily watched with her usual disapproving expression.

"Er… From a doctor. About my mum… she's sick," James shrugged and grabbed a pasty.

"My most sincere condolences," Lily said, daintily spooning some soup into her mouth.

"Yeah, right," James rolled his eyes. "Like you care?"

Lily frowned. "As a matter of fact, I do. Contrary to popular belief," she said, pursing her lips, "My heart _isn't_ made of stone."

"Yeah. I guess it must be made of steel," James responded, grabbing a loaf of bread and stuffing it down.

Lily frowned again, and ate her dinner silently the rest of the night, as two boys across from her were trying to start a food fight.

*~*~*~*~*

"He's _so_ cute!" Evelyn sighed in the Common Room after dinner. 

Lily was bent over her notebook, rewriting the highlighted parts of her notes.

"Lily, what are you doing?" Bella asked, as Lily repeatedly wrote, "Phobia Charms create unbalance in the brain's nerve center…"

"My new method of studying," Lily responded. "I rewrite all the important parts of my notes, and it eventually drills into my mind. I tried it out this summer; now I've memorized the chemical symbols of all the elements known to muggles."

"You were memorizing the _Table of Elements over the summer_?" Evelyn asked in shock.

Lily shrugged. "Good things to know. As we're in high school in muggle standards, I should have memorized them years ago."

"I'm glad _I'm_ not in muggle school," Evelyn muttered.

Lily sighed, and returned to her studying, now writing, "The first time Phobia Charms were used in a wizard's duel was 1674, between Benardo Francios and Hernando DiLivitaca…"

*~*~*~*~*

Lily rushed into Transfiguration Class the next morning, under the strict eyes of McGonagall.

"Miss Evans? You're late. Would you like to explain yourself?"

Lily colored deeply. "I slept in, professor. I don't think my alarm clock was working…"

"Enough. Take a seat. Now, as I was saying, this year, Transfiguration will be much harder this year, and your course expectations will be higher, as you are entering you last and final year. I don't doubt that you all have the potential to complete this with top marks, but some of you," the professor's eyes briefly swept over Lily, "must try harder. Now… Mr. Potter, tell me, who discovered the Animagi Transformation method?"

*~*~*~*~*

The next two months came and went, both Lily and James studying hard to top each other in classes. Lily was constantly seen in the library, poring over books on Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, and the Night sky.

James was seen in the Common Room late at night, taking notes from the textbooks, or writing essays on topics that no one else seemed to understand ("How Many Uses for Wolfsbane? Explain Them."), or writing quidditch tactics on notebook paper.

Neither of their friends were too happy with this situation. There was a perpetual, "Relax and take a break, Lily", or a "Are you done studying yet, James?" Often, they were followed by a frantic, "I can't! I'll fall behind!", or a tired, "No, I still have to read up on a few more subjects."

By the time it they all reached the first snow of December, however, both James and Lily were one of the few who had all their work done to be able to enjoy the break, while their friends stayed in, working on essays by the dozen. 

This brought on an, "I _told_ you to get it done like me, _now_ look how much work you have," or a "You can't come to quidditch practice?! I _told_ you to get all those school assignments done ahead of time so you would have spare time!"

Needless to say, their friends weren't too happy with this, either.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily woke up on a Saturday, changing into her usual turtleneck sweater and khaki pants. Watching the snow fall softly outside her window, she donned a heavy black coat and scarf, then headed out the door.

"Where're you going?" Evelyn mumbled groggily, getting up to see Lily.

"Out," she said pointedly, swinging open the door.

*~*~*~*~*

"Lily! What're you doin' 'ere?" Hagrid asked, opening the door for her.

"Oh, I just had some free time, so I thought I'd say hi. Haven't seen you since the last quidditch match, in November."

"Nice ter yeh, Lily," Hagrid said cheerfully, whistling. "I have missed yer company around 'ere, what with all those students bustling about busily, don' even have time ter talk o'er a bit o' tea. Why aren't you holing up in the library like the rest o' them, studying fer begginin' of the year exams, an' writin' all those essays you lot were assigned?"

"Oh, I got them all out of the way earlier, so I'd have more spare time to study Transfiguration."

"You got all yer studyin' out o' the way fer… studyin'? Er… whatever you say, Lily. So, how's it as our new Head Girl?"

"Oh, it's great, so far. I haven't done much, yet, but as Christmas is coming soon, I expect that I should be kept busy enough."

"I always knew yeh'd get ter be the Head Girl. Back in the day, they wouldn' even _consider_ lettin' a muggle born wit' that position, an' now look at yeh!" Hagrid beamed proudly. "Top o' all yer classes!"

"Thanks, Hagrid."

"Would yeh like some o' my rock cakes to go wit' your tea?"

"Er… No thanks," Lily shook her head politely. "I already made some breakfast for myself this morning."

"Alrighty, if yeh say so! 'Ere, I wan' you ter meet my new pet, Snuffy!"

Proudly, he led her to the back of his hut, where there was a small, shaking crate, covered by a large layer of blankets. It seemed to emit a low growl, and shook even harder.

"Er, Hagrid, what, exactly, is in there?"

"Oh, this li'il feller? I told you, 'e's Snuffy!"

"Um, alright. I've- I've got to go- go… study. Never can study to much, you know! Bye, Hagrid! It was nice to see you again!"

"Bye, Lily! Come back again soon!"

Walking through the powdery sheet of snow, she wasn't sure if she _would_, unless the thing in the crate was gone.

*~*~*~*~*

"Oh starry night, the stars are shining bri-ghtly…"

"Shut up! You have the wrong lyrics!" James shouted at the caroling suit of armor, in their squeaky voices, proving that Filch the caretaker hadn't oiled them for quite a while.

"Boy to the world…"

"If you're going to sing, sing it right!"

The suit of armor clanked away, seeming rather offended.

"Pre- Christmas blues?" Sirius asked.

"Nope," James sighed. "It's just the entire holiday… Cheery people, cheery colors, cheery, cheery, cheery."

"I know what'll cheer you up," Remus Lupin, another one of James' friends said.

"What?" he asked sullenly.

"Prank planning!" both Remus and Sirius said at the same time.

James looked at his two friends with mild amusement. It was typical of Sirius to want to go prank planning, but Remus, sandy-haired and sensible, normally wasn't one to plan; he just went along with the plan. 

"Sure, let's go," he shrugged, and went off with his two friends.

"D'you think we should wake up Peter?" Remus asked.

He was referring to, of course, the fourth member of the Marauders, their friend Peter Pettigrew, a short, chubby Gryffindor seventh year, who wasn't quite up to their academic level, yet they kept him around out of pity.

"Nah, he'll be fine. He already got caught planting dungbombs in the Slytherins' dressers, and I don't think he'll be able to stop shaking the next time Minnie stares at him with her Death Stare."

Remus frowned. "Didn't McGonagall tell you to stop calling her that?"

"What, Minnie? We all know she loves us, and it too embarrassed to admit it… You know she wouldn't give James a detention if her life depended on it, if a quidditch match were on the way."

"Good point. When's the next quidditch match?" Remus asked.

"Er…" James squinted, as if reading an invisible sheet of paper with quidditch match dates on them. "A little more than a week before Christmas, so… next week." As if he suddenly realized what he was saying, James jumped. "_Next week_! McGonagall's going to kill me! We haven't had a single practice because of all the schoolwork! I have to go!"

"D'you think his light bulb's screwed on a bit loose?" Sirius asked, as James ran to the familiar office of the Transfiguration professor.

"What?" Remus asked blankly.

"Muggle expression, never mind," Sirius said.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily paced restlessly in the seventh year girls' dorms.

So far, she had rearranged all her books on her small bookshelf six times, by author, by title, by most recently published, by the oldest published, by order of how she got them, and by color coordinating the covers by primary and secondary colors. She had also rearranged and organized all her robes, reorganized all her notes from first year to the most recent, and she had also tidied up her area. When she had done that three times, she did the same for her dorm mates. And then, alas, there was nothing left to do. Which left her in the position of pacing restlessly in the seventh year girl's dorms.

"Hi, Lily!" Bella greeted.

"Hi, back from studying?" Lily asked.

"Yeah," Evelyn nodded, putting away her Charms text. "You altered the room completely!" she said suddenly, as if just then noticing her surroundings.

Lily observed her work; she had moved the writing desk to face the wall, across from their large window. The canopy beds were draped instead by a light, silky, white cloth, embroidered with butterflies and flowers along the edges, instead of the usual velvety dark purple and maroon. She had taken the liberty of adding a large bookshelf next to the desk, and had put the "cat cozy", as Evelyn had so christened the cushion which her kitten slept on, on the ledge of their window, where the orange tabby was napping. 

"I felt like making the room cheerier," Lily explained. "So I added a few light colored things to the room. Brings in more light, I think."

"It's great!" Bella said. "You rearranged my stuffed animals!"

Lily smiled; Bella's stuffed animals had been on the left and right sides of the window, ever since first year, and she seemed to return with more every year. As they were running out of room, she had charmed a small white shelf above the desk, where Bella could display her collection.

"You must have had loads of spare time if you could have done all this," Evelyn observed.

"_Tons_," Lily sighed. "I did all my essays, all my homework, I practiced my charms, reviewed the History of Magic textbook twice, and I told you, I did all my studying last week, so I got most of the professors to let me take the exams early, as I figured I'd be a bit busy later on. Evidently, I was wrong."

"You know there's only one way to solve this, right?"

"I was always taught there was more than one solution to every problem," Lily said, sitting down on a chair.

"Well, for this case of boredom, there's only one cure," Bella said. She and Evelyn exchanged glances and said at the same time, "_Christmas Shopping_!"

Lily flopped onto her bed. "I should have guessed."

*~*~*~*~*

"James, why'd you call the sudden meeting?" a brown haired fifth year complained. "I'm failing Sinistra's class, I've got to catch up!"

"You should have studied before!" James said. "Now, you all know that the next quidditch match is coming soon. _Next_ week, against the Slytherins. In the rush of our upcoming exams, practices have been delayed. But, I convinced the headmaster to allow you all to take the exams a week later-"

His speech was interrupted by the sudden cheers of the Gryffindor team.

"- as long as we promise to spend our time working _extra hard_ to make up for all the practice sessions we've missed. So far, we've only had _one_ Quidditch House Cup since I've been on the team, and _none_ since I became captain," James frowned, as if the sudden thought disturbed him. "Now we've come to my- our last chance to win this Cup, you lot get that? So this year, we've got to try the best and work harder than ever!"

A silence followed this.

"Hello? I _said_, we're going to do the best ever, and we're _going to win_! Got that?"

The team cheered, filled with more morale than they'd had for the past few weeks.

Besides, if they lost, they still had a week off from exams.

*~*~*~*~*

"_Ohhhhhh_! Lily! That looks _soo _perfect on you!" Bella squealed.

"Quite an excellent pick, Miss," the nearby saleslady said. "It's been here for quite a while… a classic red, strapless, satin, of course. It comes with a matching shawl."

"How much?" Lily asked, eyeing herself critically in the mirror.

"Eight galleons and three sickles," the saleswoman said.

"No wonder it's been here a while," Lily said under her breath. "Sorry, I don't think I'll take this, it's too expensive."

Lily changed back into her uniform and observed the small clothing shop. Normally, the small shops sold items cheaper, she had discovered. This one was no exception, but the last dress she'd tried on was definitely out of her budget.

"Hmm. I'm a hopeless case, Bella, let's just find a dress for you and Evelyn now. Who're you going with?" Lily asked, browsing through another rack of formal dresses reserved for, of course, formal occasions.

"Remus, why?"

"He asked you already?" Lily prompted, holding a dress in front of her friend.

"Well, no, but I think he's going to. And no to that dress, it's too big on me," Bella pointed at the dark blue, long-sleeved dress Lily held. "And why aren't we wearing dress robes, anyway?"

Lily led both Evelyn and Bella behind her across the room to see more dresses. 

"Well," she paused thoughtfully, "I think it's because the professors wanted to try something new, with a muggle themed ball, and such."

"You know what I heard?" Evelyn asked in a gossipy voice. Not bothering to wait for an answer, she said, "Lucious Malfoy threw a _fit_, and called his father about the muggle theme. In fact, he even had his father talk to Dumbledore about how inappropriate it was to do such. I know it's true, since I _saw_ them walking out of Dumbledore's office yesterday."

"I thought you were studying in the library," Lily frowned. 

"I was. I just took a little break to get a drink."

"The library and the headmaster's office are a on opposite ends of the school," Lily smiled at her friend's seemingly endless curiosity and nosiness.

"Oh. I got… lost?" Evelyn said feebly.

"Keep on saying it, dearie, stick with your story," Lily teased.

"Nice, Lily," Bella smiled. "Oh, what d'you think of this one?" she asked, picking a pastel blue, sleeveless dress.

"On you? Horrible," Lily laughed. "I'm kidding, of course. It's… nice, but not very… er, Christmas-_sy_."

"Good point. We'll probably be here all day!" Evelyn sighed happily. Lily sighed too.

Only, hers was a sigh of exasperation.

*~*~*~*~*

"James, this is a _Hogsmeade _weekend! If we have the exams later, can't we go and skip this practice?"

"_No_! We _have_ to practice!"

"It's _snowing_!"

"It might as well be; it might snow at the match, too. Get used to all kinds of weather," James snapped at the third year.

"But-"

"Come _on_! Work harder!" James urged, as a few of them kicked off into the sky. "Good. Now, for beater practice, the usual. Seeker, you try to catch the golf balls. Keeper, I'm sending random snowballs your way to block. Chasers, practice your flying for now."

A few grumbles followed these orders, but they did so.

A clapping sounded behind him. Turning, the team saw Lily standing, watching.

"Very _good_, Potter. Keep up the job, and you'll have all your team turn against you," she smiled. "A coup de tat, _most_ amusing, I would say."

"We aren't in politics, Evans," James replied, not bothering to look at her.

"You _are_ supposed to be the leader, _they_ are supposed to be your so called 'loyal subjects', or in quidditch, anyway. So I believe an overthrow of power would be quite appropriate, especially with _you_ as their supposed leader."

"Quite repetitive in your words, Evans," James snapped. "Now go away; you're interrupting our practice."

"_Sorry_," Lily said, rolling her eyes. Directing her speech to the team members, she waved and said cheerily, "Don't let that idiot get you down! Good luck on your next match!"

A chaser fell off his broom, being addressed in a friendly manner by Lily Evans.

"EVANS!" James said. "This is a practice session! Go. Away. _PLEASE_!"

"Lovely manners, Potter," Lily said sarcastically. "I'm going, I'm going."

James sighed as she slammed the door shut behind her. Turning to his team, he said, "On with your practice. I'm joining you guys now."

Up in the air next to him, a seventh year said, "Don't worry, James, we'll win. Even _if_ there's a coup de tat, we'll still win."

"Arrgh!"

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Like it? Hate it? Suggestions? I'm open to any. Reviews are always appreciated!

*~* UPDATE!!!!!!*~* For _some_ reason, I can't get my next chapter up, so I'm adding this note to all you readers: I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP ON THIS FIC! It's just that I can't load, but I can replace chapters. If you're really desperate to read something, e-mail me. 

To Come: Quidditch and such.


	3. Quidditch and Such

Chapter 3

(A/N) Thanks for the reviews! Sorry it took so long! I was busy, and for some reason, I couldn't get this on.

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

"Lily?"

Lily looked up from a Transfiguration textbook to see Evelyn. "What?"

"McGonagall wants to see you and James in the Great Hall."

"Figured," she said, putting away the textbook. "We still have to start the planning.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she left to the Hall.

*~*~*~*~*

"Sit down," McGonagall instructed.

Lily obeyed, and took a seat across from James, who immediately scooted his chair to the left.

"As Head Boy and Girl, the both of you will have to work together closely this year, for social events and otherwise. Your first is the Christmas Ball, coming up in about two weeks. The two of you must be responsible for meeting together on your own, and I will check on your work from time to time. Understood?" McGonagall peered at the both of them from her half-moon glasses.

"Yes ma'am," they both said, avoiding her gaze; looking their professor in the eye was some sort of curious difficulty, which no students could find the courage to attempt.

"Good. Now go and get to work. Potter, stay behind."

*~*~*~*~*

Lily walked through the empty corridors, her footsteps echoing slightly.

All the students were either in their dorms, their Common Rooms, or the library. The first glimmer of the night shining through the frosted windows cast an eerie glow inside. Ice blue, giving everything the appearance of being frozen.

She shivered.

Maybe it was the thought of being alone in an eerie corridor. Perhaps it was the sudden, unnerving, silence. Possibly, the stillness of the air, only the sound of her breathing. Whatever it was, Lily didn't like it. Whatever it was, it seemed to be gone. Shrugging off her fear, she continued down the corridor, shaking her head at her own foolishness.

*~*~*~*~*

"Potter, the quidditch match is coming up in less than a week," McGonagall stated. "Why haven't I seen your team practicing?"

James scowled. "They didn't want to, Professor. They said that a game against Slytherin would be easy, as they haven't used their new Seeker yet."

The professor raised an eyebrow. "Said that, did they? Hmm." She turned away from him, though he could tell that she was frowning in thought. "Very well, Potter. Arrogance comes with a price. Gather your team and have them report to my office in four days. It should do them good. Until then, allow them to miss their quidditch practices, if they like. But I expect them all to show in my office, even you. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," James said quickly. Though he wondered what the professor wanted to do, he didn't doubt her. He _never_ doubted her. After all, she didn't take kindly to that.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi, Lily," Bella greeted, as Lily swung open the door and flopped onto her bed.

"Hi. Why isn't anybody out in the school, these days?" she asked, lifting her head.

"Lots of assignments, of course. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lily shrugged, sitting upright. "It's just so _weird_, with no students in the halls, aside from inbetween classes. Didn't you notice?"

"Um, no?" Bella shrugged, turning back to her Charms assignment.

"Oh, well. I suppose it'll be back to normal soon. It's just that it's so unlike our professors to load us with so much work," Lily said.

"Right. Well, you're right. The last of the exams are tomorrow, and then we'll get back to normal."

"I hope so," Lily sighed, fluffing her pillow. "It seems strange without the clutter of noise in the corridors."

*~*~*~*~*

"Not a single player came!" James complained, the next day, after waiting half an hour in the cold outside for his quidditch team practice.

"Maybe they forgot," Peter Pettigrew said from a couch. A mousy boy, round and chubby.

"How could they?" James shouted. "I reminded _every single one of them_ this morning!"

"Did you ever consider," a cold voice near the stairwell said, "that they perhaps didn't care to show up, as their idiotic team captain drives them so hard?"

"Evans," James said, turning.

"Hello," she greeted in a chilly voice. "I take it that after given the option, no one showed up?"

"What's it to you?" he snapped.

"Not much," Lily admitted. "But I point out that you _will_ have to forfeit the match if none of your team shows up next week. Not to mention, even _if_ they show up, it's likely that they'll lose, lacking so much practice. And that, I _do_ care, as that will also mean that it'll give the Slytherins a lead in the inter-house competition."

"You think you could do better with them than me?" James challenged.

"Yes," Lily replied.

"Fine. Try it."

"Pardon me?"

"Try it. _You _try being the team captain."

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

"It is. I can ask McGonagall."

Lily sighed. "If you say so, Potter."

"You don't know the first thing about quidditch," James said.

"Quite easy to read up. Is this a bet, Potter?"

"You could say that," he replied slowly. "If they win the match, you win, and I have to-"

"Quite frankly, I don't want anything but the sweet satisfaction of knowing that I'm better than you are," Lily interrupted. "And, as I _am_ being so generous, you should have no problem with the same."

"Fine," James said. "Next match after this one, Gryffindor verses Ravenclaw."

"Pleasure to take you up on that, Mr. Potter," Lily said, holding out a hand.

"I'm sure," James briefly shook it.

Peter, Remus, and Sirius watched. 

"We're doomed," Sirius said simply. "Might as well be condemned to death. Lily doesn't know the first thing about quidditch."

*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the day passed quickly. As the next day came, Bella's prediction came true. The halls were once again filled with the noisy chatter of students.

"Sirius! Wait up!" James called, on his way to the Transfiguration classroom.

"What?" Sirius asked, puzzled.

"When's the next full moon?" James asked.

"Uh… four days from now. Why?"

"Four days, _four days_!" James muttered. "The next quidditch match is in four days!"

"Poor Remus," Sirius sighed. "I guess it's too dangerous without you, as we need more than one big animal."

"I _know_," James said, walking into the classroom. "D'you think he knows?"

"Hi, guys!" Remus greeted them.

The boy seemed so cheerful that neither James nor Sirius could bring themselves to tell him. So, they did what they always did.

"Peter, tell Remus when the next full moon is," Sirius ordered.

The small boy rushed over with a calendar. "Um… in four days."

"Great!" Remus nodded. "We can-"

"Ix-nay on the ecret-say," James interrupted.

"Oh, right. Well, you know… But wait, isn't the quidditch match in four days?"

"Yeppers," Sirius clapped him on the back. "Sorry, buddy."

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, at six in the morning, James shook the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team awake, and led them all to McGonagall's office, as she had instructed. Aside from loud grumbling and their reluctance to get out of bed, it worked out quite nicely.

"Why the unnecessary wake-up call?" Billius Weasly (a/n: Ron mentions his uncle in PoA), complained, as James dragged them up the long stairwell.

"McGonagall wants to see you all," James answered shortly. "At least make yourselves presentable before going in."

More grumbles followed this, more because he was right. Most of the boys (no girls on the team) were wearing shirts inside out, their hair was messy, still had a bad case of morning breath, and were extremely drowsy.

"_This_ is what has become of the famous Gryffindor house quidditch team?" McGonagall's voice sounded behind them.

"Professor-?" James asked, as the strict professor appeared out of thin air.

"I followed you up in my animagi form," she said. 

Several of the boys groaned, quite a few of them had been talking about her, not realizing that the tabby cat with strange eye markings had been following them.

"I brought them like you told me, ma'am," James said.

"I can see that," McGonagall replied briskly. "Follow me into my office, all of you. There's something you should see."

The group of seven: two beaters, three chasers, including James, a keeper, and a seeker, all followed her into her office, small, yet clean and organized, just like the taut mouthed professor who was sitting at her desk.

"Mr. Potter tells me that you haven't been practicing," she said stiffly. "Because the Slytherins haven't been practicing and warming up with their Seeker. Is that true?"

A few resigned nods and "yes"s answered her.

"I see. Observe this," she said, drawing the maroon and deep gold curtains. When she did so, the window revealed a large view of the quidditch field. "See those specks out there? Those are the Slytherins," she said grimly. "_Ocular Magnifio_." 

Their view grew larger, until they could have a clear image of all the Slytherins.

"They practice their Seeker in the morning, from five to seven-thirty in the morning. After that, he goes for a rest, and the other team members continue practicing for another four hours. I've been watching them repeat this every Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. On Fridays, they go over the plans. I've watched them; their Seeker's one heck of a flier, their Beaters are immovable. The keeper seems impossible to get past, and their chasers are the swiftest I've seen all my years. From what I've seen, even their game plan is excellent, though I won't reveal it to you," she said.

"Why didn't you tell us to practice?" the third year Seeker.

"Professor Donohue never ordered the Slytherins to practice. It seems to me that you have all abandoned your duties, have refused to listen to your team captain, you have stopped coming to practices, and, instead of at least using your time from your practice to study, you are all sleeping in late, staying up late, doing useless things. I am appalled and ashamed by such lack of self-discipline from my own house. I do hope that you will try to work harder next time."

A silence followed her speech, all seven realizing the truth in her words.

"Sorry, professor," Billius said at last. His apology was followed by a babble of apologies, stopped like a dam in a river by McGonagall's hand. 

"Apologies will not make up for all your missed practice time. Now, before you waste even more time, _go_ and _practice_. I should not like to suffer a loss at the second match of the year. And _certainly_ not to the Slytherins. Run along, now." 

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning at breakfast, the missing seven Gryffindors, were found outside, practicing their flying harder than ever, as promised. If anyone had wondered why the sudden change of heart, the team members would have replied that they had a motivational speaker. McGonagall would have replied vaguely, as she had many times, that jealousy and the human race's sense of competition were a blessing at times. Whatever the cause, the entire house of Gryffindor had a sudden change of deep respect for their House team.

Even Lily Evans.

"Potter," she acknowledged as he and his friends took their usual seats next to her. "Peter, Remus, Sirius."

"Hi, Lillers," Sirius said, on behalf of all the Marauders, except for James.

"Evans."

"Saw the team practicing," she said, pouring some milk into her bowl of cereal. "Looks like they actually stand a chance against the Slytherins."

"We practiced hard," James answered. "Hard work always gets things done efficiently."

"I'm sure. The team is obviously working assiduously."

"Don't we always?" James asked, beginning to unwrap the brown parcel an owl dropped before him.

"Was that a rhetorical question?" Lily inquired, stroking her tawny owl, who stood well-manneredly on the edge of the table, waiting for Lily to feed him his treat.

"Guess," James replied.

"Well, I know that was a rhetorical statement," Lily said, feeding her owl a small piece of bread.

"That's great," James nodded. "Let's go," he said to his friends, who followed him out the Great Hall.

Lily's gaze followed them out the room, until she turned back to her owl, who was sipping her pumpkin juice.

*~*~*~*~*

With the Christmas Ball coming closer still, McGonagall had put both James and Lily in a room and told them not to come out until they had agreed on at least five things. 

The meeting had started out innocently enough, with the usual "I think", "maybe we should", "here's an idea", and a few "I know!" After the first four minutes, and sixteen, point two seconds, however, all calmness broke.

"Why can't I have a say in this?" James complained, as Lily grabbed the paper and pen from him, after rejecting all twenty-four of his ideas.

"Because, I actually want this to be a _good_ Ball, Potter," Lily answered, writing her own ideas in place of his, in her neat cursive.

"Then why are _you_ handling it?" James retorted.

"Because then _you_ would be handling it, and who _knows_ what would happen then?" Lily scoffed.

James grabbed the notebook away from her, reading the list. "Artificial snow, no… Turkey dinner, no… Music, no… Ends at midnight, no… Starts at seven, no."

Lily scowled. "Let me read _yours_," she said, then flipped the page to James' suggestions. "Candy, no… Break dancing, no… Disco ball, no… Rotten food served for Slytherins, _no_… Casual dress code, _NO_."

*~*~*~*~*

Two hours and a half later, Lily and James emerged from the room, looking thoroughly disgruntled, and handed McGonagall a parchment.

"Ah, I see you came up with _ten_ things. See the favorable outcome when you work together?" she smiled.

The two just shrugged and split up separate ways, before she could look at the list in detail.

When they departed, their professor read what Hogwarts' two brightest students had come up with:

"1. James Potter is an insufferable idiot.

2. Lily Evans is a stuck-up priss.

3. Why can't we work separately?

4. I hate him/her.

5. I can't stand him/her.

6. I never want to be in this position again.

7. How did he/she get to become Head Boy/Girl?

8. He/she is intolerable.

9. Any rumors of either of us being friendly towards each other are obviously apocryphal.

10. Life is unfair."

Sighing, McGonagall folded up the paper and headed for the Headmaster's office.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Like it? Nothing says, "I love your fic" like flowers and candy… but I'll settle for a review. If you hated it, well, then I suppose you would rather flame me. Oh well, not everybody likes you.

To Come: Um… stuff? I try to update every other day.


	4. Rules and Pranks

Chapter 4

(A/N) Thanks for the reviews!

Disclaimer: I own the plot. 

*~*~*~*~*

"Why d'you hate her?" Sirius asked, later that day, in the Common Room, tossing a tennis ball at the ceiling and lying on the couch.

"Why do _you_ like her?" James retorted, watching a group of Gryffindor first year girls playing chess.

"Because she's _hot_, you numbskull," Sirius grinned, and caught the tennis ball.

"No, she's not." 

"Yes, she is"

"No, she's not. Nice eyes, you could say. Pretty hair, I suppose. Okay complexion, I guess. But if you add them all together, the outcome looks bad," James shrugged, as a girl in brown pigtails was checkmated.

"So you admit she's hot?" Sirius shot upright on the couch.

"I didn't say that," James said, turning to face his friend. "I just took note of certain points of her features that were nice. But, as I said earlier, when you put them all together on the same face, it's not so nice."

"I still say she's hot," Sirius said, returning to his throwing game.

"I still say she's not," James returned, watching the new game of chess started.

"Excuse me for eavesdropping," a certain girl with "nice eyes", "pretty hair", and an "okay complexion" set her books down on the coffee table that the sofas were placed around. "But I'd rather like to be left off the Potter/Black list of '_Who's Hot and Who's_ _Not'_, for now, anyway."

James rolled his eyes. "Whatever. And just for the record, you would have been on the _Not_ list."

"She gets my vote for _Hot_," Sirius chuckled.

"Mixed reviews, I see," Lily said crisply. Taking a seat in between James and Sirius, she picked up her Transfiguration textbook and flipped to page 206.

"We only have homework in the first thirty pages," James said suspiciously. "Why're you reading all that?"

"Because, it's always good to know these things."

Sirius choked. "You're reading that for _pleasure_?"

"No, of course not. It's just that I lack expertise in the subject of Transfiguration, unlike my skills in Charms and other subjects," she replied cooly, flipping a page.

"'Lack expertise' my foot," James muttered.

"What was that?" Lily asked sharply.

"You don't lack expertise, Evans. You. Just. _Suck_."

"Oh, that's terribly kind of you to point out," Lily scoffed.

"Really? The kindness wasn't intended."

"Lovely. I'm going to the library, where certain _people_ won't distract me from my studies," she said, getting up to leave. With that, she slammed the portrait hole behind her (_"How rude! Straighten my frame this instant!"_)

"Who's that?" a first year asked in awe.

"Your Head Girl, of course," Sirius grinned.

*~*~*~*~*

That evening, after the students all retired to their common rooms after a large dinner, a certain group of Gryffindor seventh years remained.

These particular students were, of course, the Head Girl and Head Boy, and their friends. They were all casually sitting around the table, with the exception of Sirius, who was lying on the couch, as usual, and Lily, who was sitting off to the side, in a straight backed chair, doing her homework, her back facing the fireplace. 

"Who're you taking to the Ball, Remus?" Sirius asked. 

"Erm…" at this pause, Bella looked hopeful. "Evelyn, would you like to go with me?"

"Oh. Um…"

"Hey, you know what we could do?" Peter said suddenly.

"What?"

"We could all agree to have each other as a back up, in case one of us can't find a date!" he said, obviously very pleased with himself for coming up with such an idea.

"I guess we could," Sirius shrugged. "Who's up for that?"

There were a few shrugs of "Yes", or nods. 

"Uh, Lily? Your vote?" Sirius said.

She jerked up. "Hmm? What? Oh, right, whatever, yeah, sure." After this short ramble, she drifted back into her private world of books.

"I'll take Evelyn as my back up," Sirius said.

"Hey!" Remus said. 

"Snooze, you lose, buddy," Sirius grinned.

"Okaaay, then I'll take Bella."

"I'm second choice?" she said indignantly.

"Women," James muttered under his breath. "Anyway, I doubt I'll have any trouble finding a date, and besides, I'd rather go alone than with Evans."

Lily was too into her work to notice.

"Good. That leaves me with Lily!" Peter said cheerfully.

Sirius coughed something that sounded like, "Fat chance."

James had to agree. Though he wasn't a personal fan of Lily Evans, many others were… even _if_ they knew her long history of sending boys to the infirmary, not leaving a single piece of evidence for teachers to trace back to who had been able to dislocate arms so easily.

As if to prove it, an owl flew in through the window, carrying a purple envelope for Lily, with chocolates. 

"Can somebody open that for me?"

"The chocolates? Gladly," Sirius said, unwrapping the box and popping a dark chocolate heart into his mouth. 

"I meant the envelope," she said, not looking up from her work.

Bella grabbed the envelope from Sirius. The minute it opened, someone's voice burst out,

__

"WILL YOU GO TO THE BALL WITH ME, LILY EVANS?" 

Confetti erupted from it, forming the words, "Gilderoy Lockhart".

Lily didn't look up. "Bella, give me the envelope."

Her friend handed it to her. In one swift movement, she tossed it into the fireplace behind her.

*~*~*~*~*

"And since _when _are we having _ice sculptures_?"

"Well, since _when_ are we having _elves_?" Lily shouted at James though they were only a foot apart.

"Since _now_!" he retaliated.

Anyone else would find this topic rather trivial; ice sculptures or elves, why not both? However, Lily Evans and James Potter were _not_ "anyone else". This being said, they weren't too enthusiastic towards each other's ideas.

Lily sighed. "We'll get back to that. What's next on the list?"

"Music," James replied promptly. "I took the liberty of typing up a song list," he said, handing her a sheet of paper.

"It's… blank," Lily said, frowning.

"_Exactly_," James said, looking as if he had just discovered the way to solve world hunger problems. "The less singing there is at the ball, the better off we are. Suits of armor _cannot_ sing."

Lily crossed her arms stubbornly. "_I_ thought we'd be having a traditional Christmas selection, preferably with a piano and singer."

"Yeah, well, you thought wrong," James said.

Lily scowled. "Fine. We'll skip decorations and music for now. Attire?"

"_What_? I thought all we needed was muggle wear."

"Yeah, well, you thought wrong," Lily said.

"Can't even think up your own insults, Evans?"

"You are just so infuriating!"

"It takes years of practice, so appreciate it," he said. 

"You-you-…" she sighed. "This is useless. Save the verbal sparring for later, Potter, right now, we have work to do. So, back to the attire. Dresses for girls, and suits for boys, right?"

"Whatever."

"Good. Now for the food."

James perked up at this. "_Food_? Hmm… What to pick, what to pick…"

"I don't have all day, Potter," Lily said. 

"Fine," he grumbled. "Cakes, mulled meade, ooh, we'll have to have that new flavor changing ice cream, pumpkin juice, er, a bowl of all the new sweets they have at Hogsmeade as toppings, oh, and a _huge_ slab of that new chocolate they came out with-"

"No."

"Oh, and _you_ have any ideas?" he said.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I _do_," Lily snapped testily. "Roasted turkey, mulled meade, I guess, maybe a little chocolate cake, cheesecake, perhaps, a salad bar would be necessary; Bella went vegetarian last summer…"

"We live in Hogwarts, not the Buckingham Palace, Evans," James said.

"Really? I thought you were the annoying court jester," she said sarcastically. "Anyway, age restrictions. I was thinking, fourth years and above?"

"Fifth, fourth years wreck everything," James said.

"_No_, Potter. Let me explain something to you. Not _every_ fourth year behaved like you and your friends."

"Fine. Fourth years and above. What's next?"

Lily glanced at the list. "Mistletoe branches. Out of every branch, comes… _eight _mistletoes."

"I didn't quite get that, Evans," James said blankly.

"Okay, let me explain this to you. There are mistletoe branches. _Magical_ mistletoe branches. As we all know, we don't hang _branches_ over our doors, so, we only use bunches of the leaves. _So_, they sell them by branches. Eight different mistletoe pieces come from one. _So_, you multiply the number of branches by the number of mistletoe there are," Lily said slowly, as if talking to a small child. "Oh, that's right! Silly me, I forgot; you're still having trouble with _addition_. Should I explain that to you also?"

"Huh?"

"I take that as one branch," she muttered, scribbling onto the clipboard.

Dumbledore walked into the room cheerfully. "Hello, Lily! Hello, James! How are things going?"

"Not very well," Lily replied. "Potter wants to cancel out music completely."

The Headmaster smiled. "Sorry, Mr. Potter, music is required."

"F- I mean, darn. Who'll be singing?"

"The suits of armor, unless we can find anyone else."

"Sh- I mean, darn."

Lily rolled her eyes, and muttered something about the vulgarity profanity. "Professor, you never discussed the Christmas tree."

"Oh, you, Mr. Potter, our staff, and, of course, the prefects will be decorating it, the muggle way, of course."

"But-" James started.

"It's the best way to get into the holiday spirit, Mr. Potter. Now, two more things," Dumbledore said. "One, is that, of course, you two will have to open the dance together."

"Dance," Lily said blankly. "I don't dance."

"Yes you _do_," James said. "You waltz with an imaginary partner whenever you ace a test. Besides, you've had to do it with _me_ the past two years as a prefect."

"Shut _up_."

Dumbledore smiled. "Now, the other thing is, as Head Girl and Boy, you are required to make a personal contribution, such as a food, or perhaps a nice ornament on the tree. Small things. Prefects and staff are required to do it also."

*~*~*~*~*

In the girls' dormitories, there was a great deal of whispers about hair, make-up, dresses, and, of course, boys. Everyone seemed to be swept up in the excitement of the Ball, and one particular Common Room, there was even more whispering than in any of the others. 

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't the Hufflepuffs.

"Oh, you guys are awful," Lily said, as she listened to her friends gossip viciously on the subject of what Charity Blesidle had picked to wear at the ball.

"We can't help it, Lils," Evelyn shrugged.

Lily flinched. "_Don't_ call me that."

"Sorry, I forgot the Rules."

She was referring to, of course, the small book of rules the girls had written out of whim in first year, and had added to it as a joke over the years. By the time it was their fifth year, Lily had charmed the papers into a leather bound book, with the golden inscription of: _The Rules of BEL_ (Bella, Evelyn, and Lily). 

Taking out the now familiar book, Lily flipped to a page that was titled: Of the Residents. 

"Rule number six: Never, under any circumstance, may any person in the room address Lily Evans as Lils, Lil', Lillers, or anything else of that nature," she recited.

"An eleven year old with a twenty year old vocabulary," Bella smiled. "Ooh, maybe it's time we look over all the rules we've made over the years!"

Lily smiled to herself. "You know, we've had a bunch of rules in here that we changed. Here's one: Sirius Black is a pea-brained idiot. _Now_, it reads: Sirius Black is the hottest boy in the school."

Evelyn grabbed the book. "I _thought_ I had a concealing charm on that," she muttered.

"You, dear, are worse than _Potter_ at Charms," Lily said. "And that's saying something."

"Hmph. Oh, here's the rules we made regarding the Marauders in third year… Rule number one: Never address James Potter by his first name alone, unless such formalities are required." 

"Ah. That's a classic. We haven't changed _that_ one yet, have we?" Lily smirked.

"_We_ call him James."

"And _I_ call him Jerk," Lily said. "Not _a jerk._ _The_ jerk."

"You're _hopeless_, Lily," Bella sighed. "Oh, I just remembered! What's your personal contribution?"

"My what?" she asked blankly.

"For the Ball!" Bella said. "Honestly! Don't you ever pay attention?"

Lily ignored the latter. "Oh! _That_! It's a surprise. Well, goodnight."

"_What_?!" Both Bella and Evelyn sprang up. "You're leaving it off at that?"

Lily gave them both a funny look. "Even _Potter_ doesn't annoy me like this."

*~*~*~*~*

Outside, a half moon shone faintly through the trees. Quite soon, it would be full. Quite soon, a werewolf would starting his monthly prowl for a human chew toy.

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, there were dozens of owls flying in. One large brown owl landed at the Slytherin table, stopping in front of Severus Snape with a large, yellow envelope. Obviously, he opened it.

What a big mistake that was.

No one was quite sure of what had happened next, but there were many variations of the tale, spreading like wildfire within the seconds afterward. They all started out the same.

According to the tales, Snape had jumped onto his table and burst out singing, "I'm a little teapot, short and stout; Here is my handle, here is my spout…"

Out of embarrassment, Malfoy pulled him down. Losing his balance, Snape fell headfirst into his morning cake. ("Shouldn't be having sweets in the morning," Sirius said, while James was hastily unwrapping his usual package of candy) The outcome? Argus Filch's pregnant cat jumped from her place and began to lick off the icing. This sent many Slytherin girls squealing off in separate directions.

One girl, in her haste, whacked Malfoy with her wand. Twenty minutes later, he was still moaning about the great loss he suffered when a boy took all his lemon chicken flavored tulips. 

Another owl flew in, carrying a large banner with the words: "BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE MARAUDERS."

After this, it all branched out into different stories. One said that McGonagall suspended the Marauders… this proved untrue.

Yet another said that all the Slytherins were covered in warts… this was partially true. They were actually a great series of popping zits on their faces, on each was one especially large one with a telltale "M" on it.

There was a popular one that said that Snape had been seen dancing in the hallways wearing nothing but boxers singing on the top of his lungs, in a _very_ off-key voice, "Born to be _W-I-L-D_, Born to be _W-I-L-D_…" 

This one was slightly inaccurate. He had actually been singing "Joy to the World," but it was impossible to interpret his words.

The last one was that Malfoy had, in his anger, pushed over the Gryffindor Table with his strength, (or so he claimed, to the fawning Slytherin girls) and had sent many of its occupants falling off, due to the gravitational, downward pull of Earth. 

That part was a bit exaggerated.

However, there _was_ one bit that most interested everyone. Lily Evans had fallen off, and James Potter had caught her. 

__

This part was true.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Did you enjoy? Then, by all means, review! I know, I know, not exactly the _BEST_ chapter I've ever written, but give me a break, will you? Apparently not. Well, carry on with your critiquing.

To Come: More of Gilderoy Lockhart, the quidditch match, and more. 


	5. Fairy Torches and Golden Snitches

Chapter 5

(A/N) No, there's nothing that goes on between James and Lily… that part just acts as a stepping stone to another part in the later part of the story, which is a stepping stone to another part, which is a stepping stone to… Eh, you get the idea. Thanks to all my reviewers! And sorry for how long this took!

NOTE TO READERS: James is a _chaser_, as J.K. Rowling said in her interview, but the movie said he was a seeker. I decided to go with chaser on this story.

Disclaimer: I own the plot. 

*~*~*~*~*

As told, Lily _did_ fall, and James _did_ catch her… 

But they both jumped apart like the mere sight of each other was poisonous.

Not that other students didn't try to form a more favorable outcome, such as they fell hopelessly in love with each other, but that _obviously_ wasn't happening, so they gave up on it. Instead, the two acted normally to each other… 

*~*~*~*~*

"Lily," Bella rolled off the bed, and sat upright as her friend entered the dorm, "Do you _know_ how many girls in this school would _love_ to be in your place?"

"Erm… no," she replied, spreading her textbooks out on the desk.

"All of them!" Evelyn exclaimed, joining in the conversation. "Every one of those poor, desperate, souls would give anything to be caught by James Potter!"

"Don't remind me," Lily rolled her eyes. "Besides, I'm writing an essay on the forms of punishment Zeus used on his subjects, then I have to finish up on my other one about Hera, from Pandora to Prometheus, from Echo and Narcissus to Hercules…" she trailed off, starting her essay and drifting off into her own world of studying. 

Knowing it was hopeless, the other two girls sighed and resumed chattering excitedly about the Ball.

*~*~*~*~*

"I hate mistletoe," Lily muttered the next day, in the Great Hall.

She was referring to the mistletoe bunches drifting about above their heads. The mistletoe of Hogwarts was a strange and rather bizarre thing, as all things in Hogwarts were. Unlike normal mistletoe, which common, sensible muggles hang, the magical mistletoe hovered above their heads, and stopped at a random person, and stuck there until someone kissed them. They always disappeared at a set time, usually around Christmas night.

Dumbledore was only testing them for a few minutes, as in every bunch, one always seemed to find a spoiled one, which stuck to one person, or would go to high, so no one ever noticed it, or perhaps it would go to low and hit someone on the head. After detecting three duds and four that just didn't work, he clapped his hands, and the mistletoe disappeared.

"Owl post," she announced. As usual, she only received her subscription of the Daily Prophet. 

"My mum's sicker," she heard James announce to his friends.

*~*~*~*~*

It was a little more than a two weeks before the Ball, and the teachers were growing annoyed by the petty disputes that broke out between the Head Boy and Girl, over a large multitude of subjects, ranging from the music selection to the designs on the tablecloth.

They were both giving it their full effort, of course. Professors didn't deny that they had never seen two students working so hard to organize a perfect Ball. Neither did they deny that they had never seen two students who disagreed so strongly on each others ideas. It was quite common to see a passing professor clucking their tongue, or shaking their heads in disapproval as James and Lily began yet another verbal battle against each other, over quite frivolous things.

*~*~*~*~*

It was a Saturday morning, before breakfast. Barely anyone else was awake, aside from Lily and James, who were both in the Great Hall, looking extremely composed and calm for two students who had woken before the crack of dawn. 

"Which box was it?" James asked, as the two surveyed the large pile of boxes and crates of ornaments and decorations stacked neatly against the back wall.

Crouching down to hang a glass star at the bottom of the tree, Lily twisted around long enough to say, "The farthest one to the left."

"Your left, or my left?"

"It's the same left," Lily sighed, but pointed out the box anyway.

"I knew that," James said, as he lifted it and placed it on the ground next to them.

"Done with this one," she said, closing the now empty box that once held the decorations. "Open that one."

James frowned. "Holly?" 

"Yes, holly. What's wrong with holly?"

"Well, isn't it a bit… boring?" he asked, adorning the tree with a crystal poinsettia.

"Holly isn't _boring_," Lily said, as she hung up a candy cane on the tree. "It's _traditional_. Normal, in other words. I suppose, though, it would constitute as boring to you, now, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," James replied bluntly, as he reached for the candy cane.

"Don't even think about it," she said sharply. "You are _not_ eating the decorations… besides, it's probably stale."

"Spoil sport," he muttered under his breath.

"What time is it?" Lily asked, checking the enchanted ceiling above them. It appeared to still be dark.

"Er… Five-thirty on the dot," James said, checking his watch. "So we've been here for about… forty-five… fifty… fifty-six minutes."

"I thought so," she said, mid-yawn, stifling it with her hand. "I woke up around four-fifteen."

"Morning person, are you?"

"Yeah…" Lily trailed off, and picked up a small, glowing object. There wasn't a particular shape, as it seemed to be made entirely of the golden light. It did, however, appear to be a spherical shape, but upon closer inspection, there were tiny wisps of the light bouncing off the surface. "What is it?"

"Seven years in the magical world, and you're _still_ learning," James said, obviously pleased that she, for once, didn't know the answer.

"I'm sure that if seven _hundred_ years passed by, I still wouldn't know all there is to know," Lily replied. "Who would? Now, I repeat my question: What is it?"

"It's a Fairy's Torch," he said, taking it away from her. "I personally think the name is just too obvious, but that's what it is."

"A Fairy's Torch," Lily breathed. "What does it _do_?"

"Not much. They say that it's the spirit of a great fairy, and blesses those who can see within the depths of it… That's what my grandfather told me, anyway. I was seven… or maybe six… I don't remember. Anyway, you're supposed to look at it and try to see beyond the surface, and you'll see something of personal significance, or something like that. Sort of like the Mirror of Erised."

"The what?"

James drew a breath. "Are you always this interrogative in the morning?"

"Perhaps…" Lily shrugged as she picked up an enchanted candle and placed it next to a dove on the tree. "Why?"

"No reason. Just that you seem more… tolerant."

"Tolerant?" she frowned. "Tolerant? Well, would you prefer me to be _in_tolerant? Perhaps I should hurl a crate at you. Or, I could chuck a few ornaments across the room."

"Er, no thanks," James said, taking out a fragile star. "Just wondering. Anyway, what was your earlier question?"

"Um… something about a mirror."

"Or, right. The Mirror of Erised, it's some fabled mirror that show's you your heart's desire, or something like that. It's not even for sure that it exists. A Fairy's Torch would show a perfect world, or the happiest seconds of your life."

"How… pleasant," Lily said, as she handed him a bit of tinsel. 

"Pleasant?"

"Never mind. How is it an ornament?"

"Give it to me," James offered. "Watch closely."

"Why?"

"It's an interesting thing. Now, stare into the light."

"Why?"

"Just do it," James said. "See anything?"

"Light," Lily replied blankly.

"Look deeper," he said, as Lily moved closer to the glowing ball of light.

"Okay… I see a lake… a moon… a gazebo… I sound so cliché," she murmured. "Um, now I see myself, I'm looking at the lake, and there's someone next to me… I can't see his face… that's it."

"Make a wish," James said simply.

"Sounds like a fairy tale," Lily laughed. 

"Right. And I'm your fairy godmother. Make a wish," he said.

"Okaaay… now what?"

"Blow on it, with your wish in mind."

Lily did as instructed.

The small ball of light seemed to whirl around for a second, then it levitated itself near the top of the tree, glowing brighter.

"That's an interesting way to hang ornaments," she said, tilting her head back to see it.

"Fascinating," James said sarcastically. 

She missed the sarcasm. "Right. What time is it now?"

"Five forty-six."

"Great. Hand me the angel, would you?"

*~*~*~*~*

About an hour and a half later, students began streaming in through the doors for breakfast, and were greeted by a big surprise. The center tree was highly decorated, appearing to be almost finished. 

Everyone seemed to be happy, discussing Christmas gifts, sending owls home, smiling at any passing students, and everything seemed to be aglow.

Neither Lily nor James took any part in the holiday cheeriness.

With the upcoming quidditch match, James and his team were too wrapped up on their practices to notice the seasonal atmosphere. Lily was busy studying Transfiguration, though it didn't seem to improve her skills at all. 

And soon, the day flew by like seconds, until it was the morning of the quidditch match, a little more than a week from Christmas.

*~*~*~*~*

"Introducing… the GRYFFINDOR TEAM!" Loud cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands. The team was already marching to the quidditch grounds.

Lily had the best seat, perfect view, next to the commentator, some fifth year prefect. She didn't _want_ to be there. It was a Sunday morning. She could be _anywhere_ but there. 

Before being appointed Head Girl, she had spent her time in the library on quidditch days, when no one was there to bother her. She couldn't do that anymore, as it was some sort of "school spirit" idea that someone had come up with.

Whoever came up with that idea obviously wasn't Lily Evans.

In her opinion, she was fine with school spirit. Excellent role model, participated in all school events, model student, helped organize any holidays ever since being a prefect… So _why_ did it matter that she just _had_ to go to this quidditch match? Would the world suddenly stop turning if she didn't attend?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the announcer saying, "Now… It's a bird, it's a plane, it's-"

"An egotistic idiot," she muttered, as the commentator shouted, "Team Captain, and one of the best chasers we've seen since twenty years ago, James _Potter_!"

*~*~*~*~*

James waved at the cheering crowds. 

Well, they were either cheering or booing, as was the case with the Slytherin crowd. 

However, there was one person there that wasn't booing him, nor cheering him on, but was obviously looking at him with the look of intense dislike that even Snape would find hard to match.

Of course. Lily Evans.

All the while, Thomas Creed, the cousin of one of the team's chasers, was announcing the names of his team.

"And… SLYTHERINS!"

James grinned as the Gryffindors began a unanimous booing. Except for one.

Of course. Lily Evans.

She was impartial on the choice of team captains, disliking both Malfoy and him, but he knew that she'd never actually cheer for the Slytherins. Though she might have seriously considered it, just to spite him.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily scoffed as James waved at the crowd, as if he had just been crowned king of England.

She, most definitely, would _not_ give him the satisfaction of seeing her cheer for him. He would just _love_ that, no matter how much she insisted that it was out of loyalty to the Gryffindor house. So, she could do nothing but fix him with a glare that would have made anyone else run in the opposite direction as fast as they could.

James Potter didn't show any effect to this, though several on his team flinched.

"And… SLYTHERINS!"

Lily rolled her eyes as the Gryffindors began to boo.

A childish act, in her opinion. She didn't see why the competition between Gryffindors and Slytherins was so intense, though it was clear that they _were_ a rather disagreeable crowd. 

She didn't join in on the booing.

It wasn't very dignified, and if she had ever learned a thing from that long chain of Charm Schools her mother and father had made her attend before Hogwarts, it was to always appear dignified and sophisticated- no matter what the circumstance.

She wouldn't cheer, either. She _was_ a loyal member of the Gryffindors, after all. She _did_ seriously consider it, just to spite James.

*~*~*~*~*

"Aaand… The snitch is off! Let the games begin!"

James watched as a fellow Chaser tried to take the Quaffle away from Malfoy. Just then, a bludger pelted past him.

Bludgers and Quaffles were, of course, two of the important elements to quidditch. The scarlet Quaffle was passed between the chasers, and used to score. The Bludgers, to be blunt, were used to knock players off their brooms, by Beaters.

"FOUL!" a whistle blew, as Malfoy shoved the chaser, Theresa Beudeavere off her broom and grabbed the Quaffle as she fell.

Madame Hooch, who was serving as referee, gave Gryffindor a penalty shot as Thomas Creed shouted out his opinion to everyone in the stands through coarse language.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily frowned at the lack of sportsmanship on the Slytherins' behalf. 

She didn't need to know much about quidditch to realize the wrongs in pushing a girl traveling over eighty miles an hour off her broom, over fifty feet above the land. 

There was a glint of gold in front of her, making a light buzzing noise.

Making a swipe at it, she found, in her hand, the Golden Snitch.

*~*~*~*~*

"TIME OUT!!!!!!" Madame Hooch shouted, blowing her whistle hard. "I said TIME OUT!!!!!!" she repeated, as the Slytherin beater tried to knock out James as he took a penalty shot.

Ducking the bludger, James descended easily onto the ground. Lily was standing behind Madame Hooch, apologizing for no particular reason that was evident to anyone else.

"Something irregular has happened," Madame Hooch said, pacing between the two teams. "A member of the audience has caught the snitch."

"I am so, so, _soo_, sorry," Lily said. "It was just in front of me, and I couldn't quite see it, so I thought it was an insect. Then, well…" She opened her palm to reveal the familiar Golden Snitch. 

Malfoy seemed to take this as an opportunity to spite Gryffindors. "Madame Hooch, Evans didn't _need_ to take the snitch. The Gryffindors should be forced to forfeit, as only the Seeker is allowed to catch the snitch."

"Well…"

She was interrupted by the entire Gryffindor team's shouting.

*~*~*~*~*

After a long debate outside in the snipping cold, the students returned to their Common Rooms, as the match was postponed until the next month.

According to Dumbledore, a befuddling charm had been placed on the snitch, so that it would only go for crowds. Though there were no confirmations, rumors ran that the Slytherins had rigged it so that the Gryffindors would have to forfeit. 

James found the rumors silly, as the Slytherins didn't exactly _need_ to cheat; as much as he hated to admit it, they were quite good.

However disappointed he and his friends were over the match, every cloud _did_ have its silver lining. Unearthing his Invisibility cloak, one of his most prized possessions, James joined Sirius and Peter outside, to find Remus. The boy would certainly be in need of the cheering up, as he had been depressed at the prospect of his going through his monthly transformation into a werewolf alone. James suspected that Remus had even gotten the idea in his head that the Marauders were abandoning him subtly, because it was too dangerous and risky, or some foolish reason like that.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) I'm DONE!!! With the chapter, I mean. I know, I know, there wasn't very much conversation in this chapter, sorry. And yeah, there wasn't Gilderoy. He's coming. Be patient. Please review!

To Come: Gilderoy Lockhart (No promises, though. I keep on cutting him out), more decorating and plans.


	6. Cookies and Snow Wars

Chapter 6

(A/N) Thanks for the reviews! This is a rather long chapter, but you'll enjoy it, I promise!

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

"They're _up to something_," Lily said, peering out the curtains of the Girls' Dormitories.

Evelyn sighed and rolled off her bed, from her magazine. "Why do you _care_? Probably some guy thing."

"Hmm. They do this _every_ month. Every _single_ month! I mean, Remus, yeah, understandable, but _them_?"

"What about Remus?" Evelyn asked sharply.

"Nothing," Lily shrugged. "But they're up to something, Evelyn! I just _know_ it!"

She glanced out the window into the forest again, as if seeing into its depths would somehow reveal the secret of where the Marauders were.

*~*~*~*~*

The crisp, December, air was refreshing, and a few second years were frolicking in the snow, inbetween classes. A few seventh years were joining them, in fact. However, though many students took to the outside atmosphere…

"Theme? _Theme_? Why would we need a _theme_, anyway?"

…Two students were not enjoying the winter air. By now, it hardly surprised anyone to see the Head Girl and Boy working while everyone else was having fun.

"Why do we need a theme? I'll tell you why we need a theme. Because _it's required_!" 

"But your themes are so _boring_!" James sighed, as the two continued to work on the plans.

"My themes are _not_ boring," Lily argued. "My themes are…"

"Traditional. Obvious. Predictable. In a nutshell, _boring_," James cut her off.

"Your themes are just too… They aren't…"

"Not very articulate today, are you?" James asked, as he watched Sirius throw a handful of snow at Peter.

"Shut _up_!" Lily said. "That is _it_. We are going to finish this list, and we are going to finish this list _today_. I don't care if it takes the next…" she glanced at the clock, "Eleven hours and fourteen minutes. I _refuse_ to use up anymore of my time discussing a Ball with you, let alone decorate the place. Now… I ask again. What's our theme, some sort of color?"

"Red and green," James said immediately.

"White," she said.

"Red and green," he persisted.

"White," Lily repeated.

"Green-"

"Forget it!" Lily sighed. "We are _going in circles_! Red, green, and white. Got that?"

"Do I even have a choice?" James crossed his arms stubbornly.

"No," she said. "You're acting like a six-year old, you know."

"When I was six, I had no idea who Lily Evans was," James replied.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily added another ornament to the tree.

"Where am I supposed to put these empty boxes?" James asked.

Absent mindedly, she waved her wand, and the boxes that had been used disappeared.

"Oh. Right. I knew that," James said.

Lily rolled her eyes as she conjured up a stepladder to reach a high bough. "Sure you did," she said, as she reached for the glass ball that James handed her.

"I did. It just escaped my mind at the time," he insisted, handing her a brass bell ornament.

"Right. How much longer do we have?" Lily asked, taking a clear, glass ornament, with a fairy inside of it from James.

"Today? Just a few more hours," James said, checking his watch before handing her another fairy.

"I meant before the ball," she said, as she took another ornament.

"Oh. Right. I knew that," he said, handing her a large, glittering, snowflake. "It's… Five… Six days away."

"Right," Lily said, as James handed her another ornament. "Potter! A little help over here!"

James looked up to see Lily with an arm full of ornaments, about to fall off. It was rather comical, actually, but _she_ obviously didn't think so. She appeared to have two dozen in her arms, and was about to drop every single one.

"Just one more…" he grinned, and tossed a glass ornament in the air.

*~*~*~*~*

"… your problem, James Potter?!?"

It was, of course, Lily Evans' voice who had shrieked it on the way to the Common Room, causing a large number of portraits to cover their ears.

"Oh, come on! Can't take a joke, can you?" James' voice responded, as the two climbed through the portrait hole.

"It wasn't _funny_," Lily sniffed indignantly.

Sirius chuckled behind them.

Spinning around, she demanded, "And what is it that you find so hilarious, Sirius Black?"

"You have tinsel in your hair," he said.

Frowning, Lily removed it. "_Not_ funny, Potter, to let a girl topple off a stepladder with an armload of fragile ornaments."

James shrugged, and walked off to a corner where Remus and Peter were playing a game of chess.

"Lily-bean," Sirius said, draping an arm across her shoulder (much to her disgust), "You need to relax. Christmas is a time and season of joy, peace, and relaxation, and you, my dear, are _not_ participating in any of the three."

"That's rather hard when you have no one but Potter for company," Lily retorted hotly. "Brings the worst out of me, he does."

Sirius chuckled again.

*~*~*~*~*

The next day, Christmas Break began, yet the majority of students remained at Hogwarts. A large group of giggling girls was following James around wherever he went, much to the distress of the Marauders. They were constantly interrupting their conversations with their whispering and chatters. Though the group consisted mostly of Hufflepuffs, there were a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors trailing behind him occasionally.

Lily had her own group of suitors also. There were dozens of owls arriving with flowers and candy for her, day after day. Though she had broken out of the habit of injuring whoever asked her out, she hadn't stopped throwing the flowers into the fire (Sirius ate the candy). She did, instead, turn them all down politely, with an "I'm sorry," a "No, but thanks," a "Sorry, but I really can't," or a "Gilderoy! Stop sending me flowers!" Well, maybe not the last one… but it _was_ the most frequently heard.

If any boy happened to catch her off guard, she wouldn't tell them off for another five seconds, at most. Still, the most persistent of all, Gilderoy Lockhart, had come across a strategy through watching her closely for three straight days.

"Hi, Lily," Gilderoy greeted her at the table.

"Yes, yes, that's nice," she replied, as she turned the page of her History of Magic notes.

"So, have you got a date to the Ball yet?" he prompted.

"Yes, yes, that's lovely," she answered, as she highlighted "1766".

Gilderoy began to receive the vague idea that she wasn't listening. Still, he continued, "Well, neither have I. Would you like to go with me?"

"Yes, yes, whatever. Now go away, I'm studying," she said, highlighting something else on the page.

*~*~*~*~*

"Lily, I can't _believe_ you agreed to go to the ball with Gilderoy Lockhart!" Evelyn said, as she glanced at her friend.

"Oh, _please_ don't remind me," she said, opening the oven, to put in a batch of cookies, and taking out the pie.

Evelyn sniffed the air. "Smells good, Lils," she said.

Lily's eyes narrowed. "Call me that again, and you won't get a single _bite_ of the pie, cookies, _or_ the cake."

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "Anyway, it smells good. It was a great idea to bake… it almost seems to be perfect, with the snow outside, and a toasty oven filled with Christmas delicacies in it-"

"_I_ cooked, Evie, dear," Lily said, brushing back a stray strand of hair as she closed the oven door. "_You_ just _watched_ and ate the leftovers of the frosting."

"Well, they won't go to waste now, will they?" Evelyn sniffed. "Besides, I hear they're fattening. I saved your perfect figure by eating that frosting."

"How kind of you," Lily said skeptically. "Now do me a favor, and conjure up a fire in that fireplace. Wait- don't. Just go out and get logs. It's better and more realistic the muggle way."

Evelyn laughed. "If you say so, ma'am," she saluted, and pushed open the door to the outside cold. Almost as soon as Evelyn left, the other door opened, and in burst- you guessed it- the Marauders.

"I smell food!" Sirius said in a singsong voice.

"Out! Out, out, out, out, out! Get out!" Lily said, trying to push them back.

"Pie!" Peter suddenly cried out.

"It's cooling, Peter," Lily sniffed. "Now, _out_, the whole lot of you."

"Nah," James said, making himself at home in a chair. "Where'd you find this? I thought the only kitchens in Hogwarts were in the house-elf headquarters."

"Dumbledore said that if I promised not to make a mess of it, I'd be allowed to use this room. And, of course, if I let him have a few of the cookies and a slice of the pie. He said that no one really knows about this room," Lily explained. "Speaking of which, how'd you all find it?"

"Evans, I'm shocked," James said, pretending to be hurt. "Don't you _remember_ who you're talking to? Did you _actually_ think that the little setback of the limited knowledge of this room among fellow pupils would stop us from finding us?"

"Uh, James?" Sirius tapped his friend on the shoulder. "You're using too big words for us."

Lily rolled her eyes, then spotted Peter approaching the cooling pie. "Don't you _dare_ touch that, Peter."

"Eyes in the back of her head, I swear," James muttered. 

Lily turned around, but still didn't miss Sirius about to lick off the remaining icing in a bowl.

"Aw, c'mon, Lillers, Christmas is the season of joy and sharing, remember?" Sirius grinned, as Lily yanked the bowl away from him.

"Cookies!" James cried out.

"That is _it_! Out of the kitchen! Out! Out, out, out, _out_!" Lily shouted.

"You sound like my mother," Sirius commented. "'_Out of the kitchen! Out, out, out!_' Just like her, Lils. Makes me think of home. Besides, you wouldn't throw us out of the kitchen, would you?"

Lily smiled. "Fine. You win. Stay. But-"

"But?" Sirius pouted. "Honestly, Lillers-"

"As I was _saying_, if you want to stay, you have to help me. I have one batch of cookies so far, but I need more. So, in or out?" Lily asked.

"Do we get a cookie if we do?" Sirius asked.

"If you're good-"

"Yippee! Let's bake cookies!"

Lily sighed, and handed Remus a paper with the recipe. "It's my grandmother's recipe for Christmas cookies," she explained. "I used to think she added some sort of 'magic' ingredient, but she taught it to me when I was ten. Now, get to work."

*~*~*~*~*

"Done," Lily sighed, as she closed the oven. "Now, we just have to wait a few hours."

James chuckled.

Lily frowned at him. "What?"

"You have flour on your nose," he replied.

Lily rolled her eyes and wiped it away. 

"Are they ready yet?" Sirius asked impatiently, as she cut Peter a slice of pie.

"The cookies? I just put them in, Sirius. Relax," Lily said.

"That's like asking a fish to breath air," James shook his head. "He was born that way."

Sirius jumped up and down. "Let's frolic in the snow!"

Lily laughed. "Frolic? Did you say _frolic_?" 

Remus glanced at his friend, who was already halfway out the door. "Yes, he said frolic. Don't mind him, he's always like this around holidays, especially Christmas."

Evelyn stoked the fire, making it crackle. The fire was warm and soothing, and Lily felt she could sit there forever and never move.

"No thanks, you guys go, and I'll stay here with the cookies," she said, picking up a book (_A Christmas Carol_) and a mug of hot chocolate and sitting in front of the fireplace.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily sighed (A/N: she does that a lot in this chapter, doesn't she?) and put down the finished book. She only read it once a year, around Christmas, though she used to read it out loud to the smaller children when she was a prefect. When she had more time. A sudden tapping at the window pulled her out of her reverie. 

Pulling open the window, she saw James grinning. "Hey, Evans, I've got a present for you!"

She was hit in the face with a snowball.

"James Potter! You are going to get it when I get my hands on you!" she yelled back, slamming shut the window and dashing outside.

"About time," he said, still grinning; Lily glared at him. "Now help the others with the fort."

At her blank look, he waved a hand at the Marauders, Evelyn, Bella, and a few other Gryffindors creating a large fortress.

"Um… why?" she asked.

"Why?" James gave her a look. "Why?" he repeated, this time appalled. "We're having a war! The Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs are already half done! And the Slytherins are already trying to bombard us with snow bombs!"

Lily rolled her eyes. Taking another look at the Gryffindor fortress, she commented, "Isn't our fortress a bit… elaborate?"

Indeed it was. Obviously, the fortress was magically built. It resembled an old, abandoned castle she had once seen in Ireland, though it had a warm glow (a fireplace?) inside a few rooms. There were three lookout towers and a grand entrance. There were three floors, and a few snow cannons firing gargantuan snowballs at the other fortresses. 

"Take a look at everyone _else's_," he answered, turning her towards the other fortresses. The Ravenclaw's resembled a snow globe, with their icy dome and fortress inside. The Hufflepuff's was a simple tower, but with thick walls and small windows. The Slytherin's was a castle that seemed cold and vacant as the Slytherin Common Room, with a flicker of light from torches on the inside.

"Still think ours is too elaborate?"

As James led her to the top tower, a few students saluted to him.

"What'd you do, appoint yourself captain?" Lily asked, as a first year handed him a mug of hot chocolate. Oddly enough, the mug appeared to be made of snow, packed tightly and charmed into a solid.

"Captain Potter," he said thoughtfully. "No, but it has a nice ring to it. Actually, it's lieutenant."

"Right. And do the professors approve of this… snowball fight?" Lily asked.

"Snowball _war_," James corrected. "And, I'm not sure."

Taking a look out of the window, she saw a new fortress, resembling the Hogwarts castle. "Well, they obviously do. Take a look outside," Lily said.

*~*~*~*~*

James and Sirius were sitting in front of the fireplace, which, like everything else in the snow fortress, was made of snow.

A third year boy suddenly dashed up to them. "The Slytherins, Captain Black, they've damaged our fourth snow canon!"

"Well, don't just stand there, fight back! What do you think this is, a little playground battle? Back to your position, man, back to your position!" Sirius replied.

"Yes, sir!" the boy saluted.

"I love it when they do that," he chuckled.

James rolled his eyes, then spotted the professor's fortress, where a solid stream of ice was shooting out at the other fortresses. "Why, captain, the professors think that they can beat us with their liquid-ice!" 

"Well, lieutenant, they've got another think coming!" Sirius shouted. 

There was a knock on the ice-and-snow made door.

"Enter," Sirius said with as much dignity as he could.

Lily opened the door. "Hello," she greeted. "You know, while we commoners are fighting the battle front, you two are in the lap of luxury. We're losing, by the way. One of the towers just collapsed."

"Fix it," James ordered.

Lily rolled her eyes. "You know we'll never win if we haphazardly shoot out snowballs," she said.

"We will," James said vaguely.

"No we won't," she said. "So, I came up with a battle strategy that would not only help us beat the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins, but also the professor's."

Sirius fell out of his chair.

The professor's appeared to be unbeatable, as they had a magical shield acting as an invisible barrier to anything flying at them within forty feet of their fortress. They also had top quality snowballs, along with other devices that they used in battle.

James kept his composure. "And the plan, Evans?"

Lily drew up a seat. "Now, I've been watching the others, and I've come up with their methods of battle…"

*~*~*~*~*

"That was bloody brilliant!" Sirius shouted, as the icy dome of the Ravenclaw's suddenly cracked and broke, its force sending the two towers on its side tumbling down and their tightly packed wall to have a giant hole due to the force of the snowflake. Yes- a snowflake.

Lily's plan had been to put more speed into a single snowflake, then put a melting charm on it. The Ravenclaw's dome had protected them from dozens of snowballs, but the single snowflake had just fallen gently on the top of the dome. Once it landed, the melting charm was activated, and the small snowflake melted into a small drop of water. Due to the freezing temperatures, it froze almost instantaneously. As Lily had predicted, the Ravenclaws had charmed the ice there, and had, undoubtedly, not worried about its foundation due to the magic. However, when the tiny drop of _real_ ice landed on top, its weight was even larger that the weight of the magic ice, and the sudden clash of magic and natural ice caused the dome to break apart, despite all its anti-charm and unbreakable charms surrounding it.

Lily smiled complacently, as James nodded his approval, though he obviously wasn't happy about it. 

Within seconds, there was a large white banner of truce with the Ravenclaw raven embroidered on it, flying from the Ravenclaw's remaining tower.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) That was long, I know. Well, I hope it was worth it. Since it was an extra-long chapter, I expect an extra lot of reviews! Please? (It's weird writing about Christmas when it's summer)

To Come: The defeat of the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins. And, of course, we can't forget…Cookies! Cake! Pie! Frosting! Sugar cubes (you'll see)! Isn't your mouth watering at the thought of the next chapter?


	7. Cookies and Snow Wars Part Two

Chapter 7

(A/N) Yippee! Reviews! Reviews, reviews, reviews! Ahem. On with the story.

Note to Readers: I don't know how to spell Draco Malfoy's father's first name. If anyone knows, please tell me. PLEASE?

Disclaimer: You know the drill… I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

As we left off, the Gryffindors had just had a victory against the Ravenclaws in their snowball war. However…

"Sacrifice our own tower, Evans? Are you mad?" James shouted.

"No. I was under the impression that you wanted to win," Lily answered quite calmly.

"That tower has our best ammunition in it! There is _no_ way we're sacrificing it!"

"You play chess, don't you?" Lily asked sharply.

"Yes," James said distractedly.

"You make sacrifices in chess in order to win, don't you?" 

"Fine," James sighed.

Lily smirked and returned to the parchment with the plans. 

"The Hufflepuffs will be easier to defeat than the Ravenclaws…"

*~*~*~*~*

"Lieutenant! We have Ravenclaw refugees at the door!" a third year Gryffindor shouted just outside the fortress.

"Send them in," Lily instructed.

Nearby, there was a cough that sounded like "pushy". 

Turning from the ice-desk that Lily had conjured, she turned to see the opposite wall, where James was magically bound to with ropes.

"Pardon me?" she asked. "What did you say?"

"I _said_, Miss Ice Princess," he chuckled at his own joke while Lily rolled her eyes, "That you are _pushy_."

"Well, if being pushy gets things done, I'll be pushy the rest of my life," she replied, as a knock sounded from the door. "Come in."

Sirius walked in, and glanced at James, who grinned and shrugged- Well, he tried to shrug, but as soon as he did, the ropes tightened.

"Uh… I'm not even gonna ask," he said, nodding towards James. 

Lily swiveled around in her chair to face him. "We had a disagreement while you were gone," she stated. "So… What's your report, Captain Black?"

"As you thought, the Hufflepuffs have a quidditch player- er, I mean, a soldier at every window. They keep lookout and fire snowballs in defense."

"Defense? Ah," Lily swiveled around again in a full turn to face Sirius again. "So _that's_ their strategy. To stay in the shadows, and wait for the other houses to destroy each other until they're the only ones left. They wouldn't have to do much. Smart, but…"

She paused, and said firmly, "Each window of their tower is small, so that they can see out, but nothing can get in. The windows, being made of ice, are definitely where they would put the firmest packing of snow and ice. Unless they thought very much ahead, they would have neglected the spots inbetween. So you aim for their weakest spot."

"Sort of like their Achilles' Heel, right?" Sirius asked.

"Right. But the windows are close together, and the firmly packed spots are probably the firmest next to the window, and the weakest right inbetween. If you aim a bit off target, it'll have no impact whatsoever, and that'll be wasted ammunition. Understand?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Sirius saluted. "Oh, and the Ravenclaws, what do you want to do with them?"

"Put them to work," Lily said, waving him out the door.

Once Sirius left, James coughed again.

"What now?" Lily asked irritably.

"You're becoming a dictator," he said simply.

She responded by charming a piece of tape over his mouth.

*~*~*~*~*

Within seconds after their attack, the Hufflepuffs waved their flag of truce.

"Potter."

James glared at her silently.

"The Slytherins are our next target," Lily informed him.

James glared at her silently.

"We've already defeated the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs," she continued.

James glared at her silently.

"Now we must do the same with them."

James glared at her silently.

"And their castle is modeled on the outside the same as ours, which leaves it near impossible to defeat," Lily said.

James glared at her silently.

"So, this one will take a more intricate plot," she told him.

James glared at her silently.

"And it involves you," Lily said slowly.

James suddenly managed to peel off the tape with his teeth. "_What_?!" he shouted.

"You heard me," Lily said.

"Yes, I did, and there is _no_ way I'm doing you a favor, even if it means winning," James said.

"All you need to do is get inside the castle with a bit of self transfiguration," Lily said. "And-" he could see her teeth grit, "-You _are_ very… good at Transfiguration."

"Say I'm great at it," James ordered.

"You're- You're… great at it," Lily said slowly.

"Say I excel at it," he instructed.

It was rather odd to see James bound to the wall ordering Lily around.

"You… excel at it," she said.

"Say that you will never be able to match my astounding abilities at Transfiguration," James grinned.

"I will never be able to match your astounding abilities at Transfiguration," Lily said flatly.

"Oh, come on! Say it like you mean it, Princess!"

"I… will _never_… be able… to match your _astounding_ abilities at Transfiguration," she said sarcastically.

"Hmm… I heard a bit of bitterness in that… Say 'James Potter is better than Lily Evans in every way possible and she should fall to her feet and beg for this favor'," he said. "And doing so may better your chances," he added as if an afterthought.

"No _way_! Are you doing this or not? Because I can probably fund another person for the job quite easily," Lily said, folding her arms.

"_Probably,_" James said, as his bindings snapped apart. "Thank you," he nodded. "Anyway, no one's better for the job than me."

"You are so self-centered!"

"I have a good reason to be," he shrugged. "Don't I?"

"Argh. You are _so_ infuriating," Lily said. "Are you up for it, or not?"

"Hmm… I just need one more thing…" James said. "Say-"

"Don't even try it, Potter," she snapped testily.

*~*~*~*~*

In the Slytherin fortress, things were running quite smoothly, with Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy in charge. The two were watching the Gryffindor fortress with malice, plotting its demise. 

"You know, we could just wait for them to destroy the professors' on their own, then destroy them," Snape countered.

"That's what the Hufflepuffs tried," Malfoy replied.

"Right… But what are the Gryffindors trying? What's their strategy?" Snape wondered aloud.

"Don't know," Malfoy grunted. "We'll win."

"But we don't have a strategy," Snape protested.

"We _do_," Malfoy argued. "It's that we'll beat them."

"That's not a strategy, that's a goal," Snape said.

"Don't get all intellectual on me," Malfoy complained.

"Snape? Intellectual?" an all-too-familiar voice that wasn't welcome said behind them.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" Malfoy sneered, turning around, anticipating James Potter.

Instead, he saw a mirror with James' appearance.

"Quite cozy, this," he commented, suddenly taking human form again. "Looks to me like it's built of bricks… and an ice covering over it. Cheating, eh?"

"Get. Out!"

"Oh, but I'm here on a mission," James grinned. He thoroughly enjoyed the mixture of fury and confusion on the two's faces.

"Get. Out!" Malfoy spluttered.

"Oh, but it's so warm and comfy in here," he protested.

"Get. Out!"

"Quite a limited vocabulary you've got there," James noted.

"Get. Out… now!"

"Why, you're so kind and welcoming."

"Security!"

"You have security? Very impressive," James grinned; Lily's plan was working.

"Get out of my sight!"

"Are you incapable of words with more than one syllable?" 

"Get… Out!"

James shrugged. "As you wish. _Descrucis Justidis._"

Within a second, the walls flattened out and fell.

"Oops."

*~*~*~*~*

Inside the Gryffindor fortress Lily smiled. Naturally, the Slytherins had put up a large wall of charms around their fortress, but had obviously neglected the inside. James suddenly materialized before her.

"It's rather hard to transfigure into air, into a mirror, into normal form, into air, and into normal form again," he said.

"That's lovely," Lily said dismissively, as she eyed the professor's fortress.

*~*~*~*~*

"It's quite ingenious, the Gryffindor's strategy, isn't it?" Albus Dumbledore commented, as he watched Lily Evans discussing battle plots with James Potter and Sirius Black in the highest tower.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall agreed. "Do you suppose we may be defeated, Albus?"

Dumbledore sighed. "That wouldn't be the great loss, Minerva, dear."

"Whatever would it be, then?" McGonagall asked.

"You see, Miss Evans had been baking cookies for me earlier. I do believe they are all burnt by now," he sighed heavily again, as if there had just been a declaration that Christmas was canceled.

"Pity," McGonagall nodded. "I do hear she makes wonderful pie and cookies."

"Wherever did you hear that, Minnie?"

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Albus, you know better than to call me that."

"Sorry, Minerva. You were saying?"

"I heard it from a group of my students; almost in every year. Apparently, she hands them out at prefect meetings," Professor McGonagall said. "I was never one to try them, but I feel a sudden yearning for chocolate chip cookies."

Loading a snow cannon, Dumbledore's eyes took a dreamy glaze. "Last year, she gave me some of her grandmother's apple strudel. It was superb! She wouldn't let me have the recipe, though."

*~*~*~*~*

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor's fortress, the conversation topic was far from the apple strudel of Lily Evan's grandmother. They were, instead, coming up with the strategy of defeat against the Professors'. Suddenly, Lily was struck with inspiration… it involved certain sweets that Albus Dumbledore was quite fond of.

*~*~*~*~*

"Sirius!" a shrill, female, voice shrieked. "Quit eating the snowballs!"

The voice was, recognizably, the Head Girl's. She sounded angry.

"But they taste good," Sirius whined.

"Oh, really?" Lily asked sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah-" Sirius grabbed a snowball out of the crate- "I must get the recipe-" he slammed it against the wall- "What's the charm for this again?" he asked, scraping the remainders of the snowball off the wall and licking it. There was a large hole where Sirius had hit it.

"Sirius! You're destroying our _own_ fortress," Lily scowled at him.

"Let him eat, Evans," James said lazily, as he watched Sirius repeat the process.

Lily sighed, but the two together were too much for her. The plan _would_ be working, had Sirius not been eating their ammunition.

They had charmed the snowballs to be flavored on the inside, of random treats, but the flavor wouldn't be activated unless its acid shell slammed against a solid wall. Thus melting the shell, the acid would burn the wall, leaving the flavored snow inside.

"Can we launch now?" she tapped her foot against the floor.

"On three," James nodded. "One, two THREE!"

*~*~*~*~*

"What on Earth are they _doing_?" Professor McGonagall asked Dumbledore, as Professor Sinistra wheeled in another cartload of snowballs.

"It seems that they have burned a hole through their own tower," Dumbledore said cheerily.

"Then why is Black… eating the snowball?" McGonagall asked. "Perhaps my old eyes are fooling me."

"No, indeed, Minerva. He appears to be enjoying himself thoroughly, in fact," Dumbledore replied.

Suddenly, a large snowball was hurtled at their tower, burning straight through the protective shield and the ice wall, hitting Dumbledore in the face.

"Albus!" McGonagall jumped to help the Headmaster, who was sprawled on the ground, quite surprised, and chuckling- _chuckling_? "Are you alright?"

Still chuckling and muttering to himself "ingenious", he stood up and brushed himself off. Licking his snow-covered pinky, Albus assured her he was quite fine. "Mmm… Apple strudel!"

Minerva McGonagall stared at Dumbledore as if he had gone insane. She was quite within reason- After being hit in the face with a giant snowball, he was licking it off?

"Albus? I… I fail to comprehend what you're saying," she said slowly.

Another snowball suddenly zoomed through and hit her in the face.

She was growing quite red in the face, and Dumbledore feared she would burst any moment. And then… "Strawberry! Delicious!"

*~*~*~*~*

"Yes! Right on target!" James cried happily.

"Bull's-eye," Sirius nodded in agreement.

"You mean McGonagall's face?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "Ready, aim, FIRE!"

*~*~*~*~*

Dumbledore clapped as another snowball flew at them. Sure, their wonderful fortress was falling apart, with holes everywhere, but the professors appeared to be enjoying it, and weren't even attempting to retaliate.

Of course, he knew the strategy. But the snowballs were just too good to resist. Flitwick had been lucky enough to receive an entire turkey dinner flavored snowball, and was in the north tower, moaning over a bloated stomach.

Alas, it was time to admit defeat… though _one_ more attack of flavored snowballs couldn't hurt, could it?

*~*~*~*~*

"Yes! We won!" Lily jumped up.

James did a quick little jig as they moved inside.

Someone chuckled behind them.

It was Dumbledore.

"Ah, had fun, now, didn't you?" he beamed. "It's about time the two of you start taking time off to enjoy yourselves."

"What do you mean, sir?" James frowned.

"Well, the two of you have been working non-stop at the Christmas Ball. I'm just glad to see you two take some time off."

"Oh," Lily said softly.

James shrugged. "Er, right. We won, we won, we won!"

"Ah, when you have flavored snowballs, there are no losers," Dumbledore said jokingly. "Gave Professor McGonagall quite a full stomach, in fact. I do believe I've gained a few pounds in holiday weight myself."

"Exercise," James advised.

"Well, you must admit, it _was_ rather ingenious, wasn't it-" Lily was cut off, as a shrill scream sounded in the kitchen.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! Professor! Lily! James! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!" 

Mildly amused, Lily peeked in the kitchen to find Sirius despairing over a smoking tray of cookies. 

"Oh, come on, Sirius they're just cookies," Lily said, walking over.

"Just cookies? _Just_ cookies? Just _cookies_?" Sirius regarded her with a look of disbelief.

James cleared his throat. "Uh, Evans? Sirius takes his cookies, pies, and any other items at the top of the food pyramid _very_ seriously… believe me, I know."

Lily took the tray from Sirius, who was looking quite remorse. "These can't be salvaged. I'd fix them with magic, but it wouldn't taste nearly as good. I guess I'll just have re-bake them."

*~*~*~*~*

"Tea, professor?" Lily offered, as she poured each of the Marauders a cup as they waited for the cookies. 

"Why, thank you, Miss Evans," Dumbledore said, holding out his own.

James coughed something that sounded faintly like "suck up". Sirius, meanwhile, was popping the sugar cubes into his mouth.

"Sirius! Those sugar cubes should be for mixing with your tea, not eating," Lily said, sliding the sugar box away from him.

"I'm drowning my misery of lost cookies in sugar. Now leave me be, woman," he said, reaching for the sugar box.

"It's for _tea_."

Glaring at her, he popped a sugar cube in his mouth, then swallowed all his tea in one gulp. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Lily said sarcastically.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) That was fun to write! I apologize if there are any typos… Yes, it does read quickly.

To Come: Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Snowmen! (Ahem. And Snow _women_.) The old quidditch bet resurfaces (refer to Chapter Three: Quidditch and Such).


	8. Geometry and Snowmen

Chapter 8

(A/N) Thanks for the reviews! And to one of my reviewers: My story has a point… the last chapter didn't really much, but my story has a point. 

****

This chapter: Of all the scary things… _Math!_ Oh, the horror of the discussion they have!

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

By the time the cookies were finished, eaten, and digested, it was already ten at night, so they all headed to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"I'm going to bed," Evelyn said, getting up to go to the portrait hole.

Bella nodded and followed. "Um, Lily? Are you coming?"

Lily muttered something that sounded like, "… and yet, Hera was not a complete character of muggle mythology; she was a part of the magical world also…"

"I take that as a no," Evelyn noted.

"… oracles were commonly found…"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm off to bed, too. You coming, James?"

"… Shamans were popular long before wand magic…"

"Remus?" Sirius tapped his foot expectantly.

"Maybe later, I need to finish up on my essay," Remus replied, casting a glance at Lily, on his left, and James, on his right, both of them scribbling down on parchments that measured well over four feet.

"Peter?"

Peter was staring at the angles, line segments, and algebra equations with a look of horror on his face. "I- I'm sorry… what?" he asked, looking up.

"Uh, what're you doing?"

"Geometry," Peter said remorsefully. "My mum reckons I need to start some studying in the muggle subjects."

"Harsh," Sirius agreed. "Well, good night."

"'Night," Peter nodded.

"Sweet dreams," Remus waved, returning to his essay.

"… Orion's Belt originated as a single star…"

"… Ursa Minor was originally a part of a larger family of constellations…"

"What they mean is, 'Goodnight, Sirius,'" Remus translated helpfully.

"… _Aurora Borealis_ was rumored to be the reflection of Hera's jewels…"

"… Luna, the Goddess of the moon, cast them off as stars…"

"They've moved onto Astronomy essays," Remus noted.

"Right."

*~*~*~*~*

"She's still asleep?" Remus asked, eyeing Lily's sleeping figure.

"Hmm… I know how to wake her," James grinned. "_Aquatis Aperero_."

A sudden splash of cold water hit Lily, and, if anything, it _did_ wake her up.

*~*~*~*~*

It was certainly understandable why the Head Girl was in a foul mood at breakfast. 

Gilderoy Lockhart, however, wasn't one to notice.

From his seat at the Hufflepuff table, he was admiring Lily Evans, his date to the Christmas Ball. She was sure to be the talk of the ball, and he, Gilderoy Lockhart, would be her date. The idea excited him to no end. No one would be able to doubt his popularity _then_. After all, Lily Evans had rejected every date she was offered, and she had accepted him. Him! Gilderoy Lockhart!

Smiling to himself, he imagined him and her, dancing together on the floor, the envy of everyone. Sure, he had no idea _how_ to dance, but he could improvise, couldn't he? Alright, maybe she would be a bit taller than him in heels, but still… the effect would still be good. All those other girls that had rejected him would be sorry now. 

He was suddenly struck by a horrifying thought. 

Lily Evans never wore the latest fashions. Sure, she looked pretty, but any date of his would _have_ to be up to date in their clothing. He would tell her what to wear, he decided. She should appreciate that; didn't girls like to be told what to do? It was much less hassle than to decide for herself, anyway.

Convinced that he was doing her a favor, Gilderoy smiled to himself and continued to daydream.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily Evans, on the other hand, was _not_ smiling, and was most definitely not daydreaming about Gilderoy Lockhart.

If anything, she was _daydreaming_ ways to torture James Potter for the rest of his life. Splashing water on her. Only James Potter would do such a thing. The boy better _hope_ he never fell asleep in her presence. Oh, yes, revenge would be sweet.

*~*~*~*~*

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

"Sirius, shut it," Lily snapped, as she hugged her jacket against her. It was proving to be useless; she was still freezing.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," Sirius sang out gleefully, packing snow together.

"Sirius, do you know any other part of the song?" James asked amusedly, as his friend began to build something that appeared to be a large snowball.

"No," Sirius shrugged. "Who does?"

"_I_ do," Lily said snippily. 

"Yeah, well, you know everything," Sirius said, returning to his snowball of gigantic proportions. 

"Sirius, what are you doing?" Remus asked, though he was obviously keeping himself laughing from the comical sight before him.

Sirius was trying to keep his six foot tall snowball in place, by holding himself against it, though he obviously was failing, as the snowball was rather crooked and lumpy.

"I'm building a snowball the muggle way," he explained.

"Right," Lily rolled her eyes. 

Evelyn giggled. "Um, Sirius? I think… You're making it rather… large."

"Well, there's no harm in breaking a world record while having fun," Sirius shrugged.

"Sure," Lily agreed sarcastically, "I'm sure there's no harm in building a large, abominable snowman on school grounds, which someone'll probably bring to life. No harm at all."

"Hmm," James scratched his chin. "You know, we weren't going to do that, but come to think of it, it'd be quite humorous. Thanks for the idea, Evans."

Lily groaned as she helped Sirius break down the snowball into a normal sized base of a snowman. 

"It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you…" Sirius sang.

"Sirius, stop singing," she pleaded.

"Oh, that's polite," he said, pretending to be offended. "If we were at a Beatles concert, I suppose you'd suddenly start criticizing every aspect of their singing?"

"The Beatles? Never heard of them," Lily said, unaware of the sudden eyes on her.

"She's never… heard of them," Evelyn said faintly.

"Okay, maybe I've heard of them a few times from my sister, Petunia, but that's it," Lily shrugged.

"And that, my friends," James said dramatically, "Is proof of the deprived life that Evans leads."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I've heard of them, but I really don't listen to them."

"Oi," Sirius muttered under his breath. "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…"

"Sirius!"

"Sorry, madame," Sirius rolled his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

An hour or so later, there were three snowmen standing on the outside of Hogwarts.

"Very nice," Bella nodded her approval.

"Hey, if you squint, it looks like Lily and James with their kid," Sirius joked.

"Sirius!" Lily said in a warning tone.

"Kidding, kidding," he dodged the surprisingly hard clump of snow that Lily threw at him.

"Sirius, Sirius, Sirius," Remus shook his head. "When are you ever going to learn? You _never_ joke about things like that, or at least not around them."

"Remus, Remus, Remus," Sirius shook his head. "When are you ever going to learn that I never learn?"

*~*~*~*~*

Bent over a large textbook of some sort, which was most definitely not one of their school textbooks, Lily Evans was sitting in a large armchair next to the window in the Gryffindor Common Room, muttering something about calculus under her breath.

James was in another armchair, replying to a letter, occasionally tapping the quill against his chin in thought. With his eyes often glazed over, no one bothered him much.

Remus was scrawling down some notes he had missed while he was… well, "visiting his sick mum," we'll say. 

Evelyn and Bella were whispering excitedly over some bit of gossip that they had overheard, meanwhile comparing notes on their dresses and dates.

Peter was sitting on the couch, trying to figure out what _x_ equaled, though he was failing quite miserably.

Sirius, sprawled out on the floor right in front of the portrait hole, was attempting to trip the next person who walked in, reading _Romeo and Juliet_ with a look of horror- or perhaps disgust- on his face, while waiting for his victim.

"That's it, I give up!" Peter announced to no one in particular.

Puzzled, Lily looked up from her textbook and asked, "You give up on what, exactly?"

"Algebra! Geometry! Anything else mathematically involved!" he cried passionately. "I will _never_ understand this… stuff. Why do I need a muggle education?"

Sirius laughed, and Lily crinkled forehead.

"Why? Because, if you're ever in the muggle world, I'm sure you'll be in need of such skills-"

"Don't," Peter interrupted her. "_That's_ what my mum told me."

"Well," Lily countered crisply, "It's true. I'm studying some of the things we'd need had we been muggles… Why else do you think I'm studying calculus?"

"Because you're a raving, insane, lunatic," James cut in.

Lily ignored him. "Do you need help, Peter?"

"Help? Help?" Peter repeated. "I need someone to do all this for me! I need a personal Do-all-your-homeworker person, do they exist? Because I could really use one! Honestly! Tell me where I'm going to use scalene triangles in my life? Where? When?"

James snorted. "Geometry? Petey, my dear, dear, friend, as much as I am fond of you, I must say… sharpen your academic abilities. If Geometry's all that's holding you back, conquer it, and nothing can stop you."

A muffled guffaw was heard from Sirius, Remus chuckled, and even Lily seemed a bit amused.

"It's not just geometry!" Peter wailed. "It's-it's- I can't get algebra! I can't get probability! I can't get- oh, I even have trouble with dividing decimals! It's no use! I wasn't taught these things! I was brought up magically!"

Lily looked at the distraught boy, and took pity on him. "Peter… it's fine if you don't get it, I guess. But… You know, you can always ask if you need help."

"No thanks, Lily," he shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm a failure at muggle mathematics."

Sirius made a snorting sound, but decided to remain quiet, and returned to his book.

Just then, the portrait hole swung open.

"Potter, Evans-"

Professor McGonagall never finished her sentence, for she tripped over Sirius the next second. Quickly recognizing the telltale death glare she was giving him, he quickly jumped up.

"Sorry, Professor," he apologized.

"Black…" she was somehow able to frown, glare, and lecture him at the same time. "Kindly explain to me why you were lying across the entrance of the portrait hole."

"I was?" he asked innocently. "Why, golly gee, Minnie, it shames me to think I done you harm. It's rightly kind of you to tell me of my wrongdoin'. So… Can we get you anythin'? Sarsaparilla, perhaps? A nice, li'l ol' dance?"

"No, Black… I'm sure Billy the Kid will be around later; offer it to him," McGonagall said in an icy voice. "Potter, Evans, I just wanted to tell you of the prefects' meeting we're having tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius saluted.

Sighing, Professor McGonagall left the room, muttering something about retirement and the joys of being three continents away from Sirius Black.

*~*~*~*~*

"Perfection. _That_ is what I want to see on Christmas night. Does anyone have any idea how to achieve that?"

James watched as the terrified fifth years stared mutely at Professor McGonagall. He could have sworn that she could _smell_ fear. Perhaps she could, in cat form, anyway.

One brave sixth year raised his hand.

"Yes, McAlister?"

"Um, to try our best?" the boy tried tentatively.

"Incorrect!" McGonagall snapped, and the boy flinched. "Your _best_ is not always _the_ best. We will push you past the limits here. Within these few days we have left, I want you to practice, practice, practice! The waltz. You will perfect that; you will practice. You will do it in your sleep."

Leaning over, James whispered to Lily, "D'you suppose she's taking it a bit into the extreme?"

"She's always like this, so I suppose it's normal for her," Lily replied.

"Evans!"

Startled, Lily turned her attention to McGonagall. "Yes, professor?"

"Tell, me, if you were to do a side whisk, what would you do?"

"Right foot side, left foot cross behind right foot, left foot side, right foot cross behind left foot," Lily replied promptly.

"Very good," Professor McGonagall said to the watching prefects as Lily breathed a sigh of relief. "_That_ is how you should be; no hesitation. Sanders, put that dungbomb away."

James rolled his eyes. "Little Miss Perfection," he said.

"How kind of you," Lily said sarcastically.

"Oh, it wasn't a compliment," James replied.

*~*~*~*~*

Fifteen minutes later, Professor McGonagall instructed them to practice the waltz.

"Potter!" Lily hissed. "That _hurt_."

"Good," James answered. "I did it on purpose."

He was referring to her foot, which he had stepped on quite a few times. Actually, James Potter was known for being a wonderful dancer, or so his fan club claimed. However, he obviously didn't care too much about Lily's feet.

"McGonagall's coming this way," Lily informed him, as he did a quick box turn. "If you step on my feet, she'll make us stay longer."

Surprisingly, James danced _very_ well with Lily for the remainder of the time.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Okay, not as long as usual. Still very long. I did _research_ on that waltz, so show your appreciation by reviewing!

To Come: Um… dancing, waltzes, and… snow.

__


	9. Existance and Gilderoy

Chapter 9

(A/N) Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and, last chapter, I forgot to thank **Allison M. Potter** for the correct spelling of "Lucius Malfoy". And to another reviewer, I didn't take the plot from pixiepoop's Elephant Love Medley, though it _is_ a good one. Go read it sometime. And thanks for the "flowers and candy". 

****

NOTE TO READERS: (and thanks to Nae, who pointed this out) I was reading this earlier, and yeah, I said that the Gryffindor Quidditch team consisted of all boys, but later I mentioned a girl being shoved off her broom by the Slytherins? Um, yeah. That was supposed to be "second year boy". Sorry about that.

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

In the Gryffindor Common room, the Marauders, Evelyn, and Bella were lounging around waiting for their two friends, James and Lily.

The subject of their conversation was quite interesting, though several first years stared at them strangely.

"Remmy, old pal, do you exist?" Sirius asked, lying on his back on the carpet in front of the fire.

"Of course I do," Remus frowned.

"Are you _sure_ about that? Are you sure you're not just a mere figment of my imagination?" Sirius asked, playing with his wand.

"I'm sure," Remus answered unsurely.

"Of course he exists," Evelyn rolled her eyes. "_We_ see him, don't we?"

"How do I know you're not _all_ a figment of my imagination?"

"Because… well, you'd be crazy and delusional if we _were_ just a figment of your imagination," Bella said, looking up from her magazine.

"Oh, but I could be, couldn't I? So that must mean you all don't exist!" Sirius flicked at the top of his wand, as sparks shot off.

"Sirius!" Evelyn walked over and hit him on the head with Bella's magazine. "Did that hurt?"

"Not really… yes. I think you gave me a paper cut."

"Then we're real," Evelyn said decidedly, walking back to the couch.

"Not necessarily," Sirius said slowly. "What if I _imagined_ that?"

Just then, James walked in, looking extremely relieved to find his friends.

"Is she here?" he asked.

"Who?" Bella frowned.

"Evans. She's out for my blood, I tell you," James ran his fingers through his messy hair. "I stepped on her toes about four times on purpose, and now she's hunting me down."

"Lily wouldn't do that," Evelyn said.

"Okay, okay, I put a ten-pound charm on each foot so that it'd get her mad, but-"

"James, do you exist?" Sirius interrupted.

The others sighed in exasperation.

"Of course I exist," James frowned. "Have you lost it?"

"How can you be _sure_ you exist?" Sirius asked, rolling onto his side and getting up.

"Well," James said thoughtfully, "If there's any chance that _I_ don't exist, then, in all likelihood, there's a chance that _you_ don't exist either."

"Hmm," Sirius said thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought of that. Thanks, Jamie!"

"Don't call me that," James said, and disappeared into the Boys' Dormitories.

Soon afterwards, Lily stormed in. "Where is Potter? I know he's in here."

"Um, he was just in here," Evelyn twisted her head in the direction of where he had left.

"Little twit, Madame Pomfrey had to-"

"Lily, do you exist?"

Lily gave Sirius a strange look. "Of course I do."

"Well, how can I be sure of that? How do I know you aren't a mere figment of my imagination?"

"Well, I must exist," Lily said. "Let's be realistic, here. I am conscious of my own identity. I was born, and I will die. I occupy a particular point in space, don't I? No other solid object can occupy the same point simultaneously. So, yes, I exist." 

Finishing this statement, she stalked back to the Girls' Dormitories, muttering something like "finally gone to the loony bin, he has."

"Too smart for me," Sirius shook his head. 

Professor McGonagall walked in, looking thoroughly disappointed at seeing Sirius there. "Black, where's Potter and Evans?"

"They're in their dorms, Professor," Bella supplied helpfully. 

"Very well. Tell them there's another practice tomorrow," she sighed. "And ask Miss Evans if the swelling of her toes has gone down-"

"Professor McGonagall, do you exist?" Sirius asked. 

*~*~*~*~*

"Mornin', Lily!" Hagrid greeted. "Haven' seen yeh in a while."

"I was busy," Lily shrugged, putting her coat on the coat rack in the hut. "So, how are you?"

"Me, I'm fine. But Snuffy… He's not so fine."

Lily frowned. "And Snuffy is…?"

"Beginin' o' December, remember? You came o'er, an' I showed yeh Snuffy, 'cept he was in a crate."

"Oh… that," Lily nodded, hoping her lack of enthusiasm didn't showed. "How is it?"

"Not an it, Lily, ne'er an it!" Hagrid corrected. "E's a _he_. Real nice li'l thing, really. Wan' ter take a peek?"

"Um, maybe some other time, Hagrid," Lily smiled. "I only have a nine minutes left of my break until I get back to the prefects' meeting."

"Oh. Well, at least try some o' my rock cake, then?" Hagrid offered her a plate of rock-hard, roundish things.

"Alright," Lily said with uncertainty, reaching for a rock cake and hastily shoving it down.

"Baked 'em meself, I did," Hagrid said proudly. "First person to try 'em, Lily. So, tell me how they taste."

Trying to unclamp her teeth, Lily swallowed quickly. "Wow. That's really… It's really something, Hagrid. I'm sure it'll have a big… effect on people when they try it."

"Really? Y' think so? I tried a batch meself, but they were a bit stale. Oh well. Perhaps that was jus' a bad batch out o' 'em all."

"Um… I really have to go now," Lily said, looking desperately for a way out of eating another rock cake.

"Break's up already?" Hagrid asked good-naturedly.

"I… think," Lily glanced at her watch. She still had nine minutes. 

"Well, go on, now," Hagrid pushed her lightly.

*~*~*~*~*

"Closed position," McGonagall instructed.

"You step on my toes again, you will _pay_," Lily whispered, as James put his right hand under her left arm, and grasped her right hand with his left hand.

"What, didn't hex me enough yesterday?" James whispered back, as she stiffly placed her right hand on his left shoulder (a/n: confusing, I know.).

"Step, slide, step, slide," Professor McGonagall said, as her students did a simple box pattern. "Very good, Potter, Evans. McKinley! Shrewder! Have the decency to _try_ to do this properly!"

"But, professor!" the fifth year girl complained, "He steps on my toes a lot! _Last_ time I ended up in Madame Pomfrey's all night long!"

"Sounds familiar," Lily murmured, as James lead her in an arch turn.

"Most definitely," James replied, as she placed her right hand in his left, completing the turn. "Only, I do believe you said, '_Last_ time, Madame Pomfrey had to charm the nerves of my toes back in!' instead."

"She _did_," Lily said, recalling the first time she had waltzed with James Potter. It had ended in several other pairs on the ground, as they had knocked a few others down.

*~*~*~*~* 

"Lily! Darling!"

Lily turned from her seat at the Gryffindor lunch table to see Gilderoy Lockhart. "Gilderoy," she greeted politely, though the smile was rather strained. "How are you?"

"Wonderful! And you?"

Still wearing the strained smile, she replied, "I am many things, but _'wonderful'_ is not one of them, at this moment."

"Oh. Feeling well? I hope you can still make it to the ball. Speaking of the ball, I took the liberty of choosing your attire!" Gilderoy smiled at her.

"_Really_?" Lily sipped her water. "Whatever for?"

"Because, well, what you always wear is out of style. Too classic."

Next to her, James snorted into his soup. "Out of style?" he laughed. "I never thought of that one, Lockhart, thanks a bunch."

"Potter, shut it. Go on, Gilderoy. I'm intrigued," Lily smiled at Gilderoy, as he pulled up a chair.

"Well, I decided to pick out something for you to wear," Gilderoy said. "You'll love it."

Overhearing this, Sirius joined James in his silent laughter.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily Evans did _not_ like to be told what to wear.

But was she going to give James Potter the satisfaction of knowing that? No, of course not. 

Looking up from her Charms essay, she saw Gilderoy walking in.

"Lily! I came here to drop off your dress!"

"How did you get past the portrait hole?" Lily asked, mildly surprised.

"The Head Boy was kind enough to let me in. He has a message for you, by the way," Gilderoy handed her a piece of paper and waited impatiently for her to read it.

__

'Evans-

We all know you can't keep your hands off Gilderoy Lockhart-"darling", he calls you. Perhaps you call him sweetums? I gave him this entire week's password; there's no escape.

-Prongs'

"Are you done?" Gilderoy asked approximately a second after giving the note to her. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "Good. I brought you the dress. You'll really stand out; it's supposed to be the latest fashion in Italy."

"I'm sure…" Lily took the dress away from the annoying Hufflepuff.

"We'll be a vision, darling," he said, climbing out.

"Potter is dead," she said quietly, shredding the note to pieces.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily glared at the dress.

Never, in her seventeen years, had she believed it possible to find something more foul than Petunia's face. Even James Potter's didn't come near the displeasure of seeing her sister. Or Severus Snape. Or Lucius Malfoy. Or the Slytherin's professor, Professor Donohue. But… Gilderoy Lockhart and his hideous dress were coming in close second. Petunia had competition.

The dress itself was bad enough, as Lily saw it.

It was a dark, velvety green, a Slytherin color. That was one thing. It fanned out in the back, like a peacock's tail. That was another thing. Despite her green eyes, it didn't work well at all. Oh, yes, and the ridiculous layers of fabric, not to mention the collar which faintly reminded her of something out of a muggle film she had seen on… Dracula.

"Hi, Lily!" 

"Ergh! What is _that_?" Lily's fashion conscious friends, Evelyn and Bella appeared in the dorm room, staring in horror at the dress she was holding up.

"_This_," Lily said grimly, "is what Gilderoy Lockhart expects me to wear at the Ball."

"Uh, no, dear," Bella said, grabbing the dress. "What is this? Four… five… _six_ layers of green satin underneath?"

"Donate it to the Slytherins," Evelyn tossed the dress onto the bed. "Perhaps they could use some drapes. Well, as you aren't wearing _that_, what _are_ you wearing?"

"I didn't decide yet," Lily shrugged. "It's not really that important, is it?"

"Not- not- not important? Oh, Lily, the sight of that dress really _has_ affected your mind!" Bella said faintly. "Of _course_ it's important! It'll determine your fashion sense for the next one hundred, sixty-eight hours! Which, I might add, has _very_ much to do with your popularity."

Lily rolled her eyes and tuned her friends out as they launched into a lecture on the art of hair and cosmetics.

*~*~*~*~*

"James, are you _insane_? Just because you want to use Lockhart as a device of torture towards Lily, there is _no_ reason for _us_ to suffer with his presence also!" Sirius complained.

"Lily Lockhart," James shruddered. "Scary thought, isn't it? Anyway, I highly doubt you'd have to deal with him for long."

They were inside the Boys' Dormitories, discussing James' latest method of torture against Lily Evans. Sirius was against the whole idea, pointing out that the other Gryffindors would also have to deal with the "annoying prat", as he so colorfully put it. Remus didn't care much, and Peter agreed, as long as Gilderoy brought Lily chocolates that he could have.

"And why is that, I ask?" Sirius asked stubbornly, finishing up on his Transfiguration homework.

"Because the twit is just _asking_ to be slapped by telling her what to wear. Evans doesn't appreciate orders given for no apparent reasons, I've noticed," James shrugged. "And until she kicks him out, we get quite a show… not to mention full taunting rights."

Sirius looked doubtful. "It better be worth it, James," he said. "_Last_ time I was his potions partner, he kept on telling me he knew how to do it, and ended up blowing up _my_ best cauldron."

*~*~*~*~*

With the Ball rapidly approaching in about a day and a half, frantic preparations were made, with the day before Christmas Eve a Hogsmeade day.

"We've all got our dresses, right?" Bella asked, consulting a small parchment and checking off "dresses." 

Looking over her shoulder, Evelyn announced, "Next is our last-minute Christmas shopping."

"Right," Lily said. "I just need to get my sister's, Dumbledore's, and… Sirius', Peter's, and Remus'."

"What, no James?" Evelyn teased.

"Actually, I found his first," Lily murmured, walking into a shop.

*~*~*~*~*

"…Evelyn, Bella, and… Hagrid's," James read off his list.

Many girls tried to peek at his list of people receiving gifts from him that year, as his gifts tended to be more expensive and extravagant than anyone else's. Any girl would give away ten years' worth of spending money just to be on the list. His girlfriend of the week usually made it to the list, so girls tried extremely hard to chase after James during the holiday season. 

"Hagrid's?" Sirius frowned.

"Yeah. He's been sending me something every year, and it'd be impolite not to," James said. "It wouldn't look to good if I didn't, would it?" 

Of course. Hadn't his father taught him everything there was to know about receiving and exchanging gifts? Of the proper gifts for important acquaintances, for close friends, for important acquaintances whom he disliked, and the proper way to write a thank-you note to every one of them, each slightly different so that the reader felt as if it had been more personal? James disliked his father's methods, but he complied, as Mr. Potter usually visited him around Christmas break, to check that his son was using his Christmas gift money wisely, and not buying the wrong sort of gifts.

"I notice one person's missing on your list," Remus noted. "Where's Lily's gift?"

"Wrapped and ready to go," James answered, much to the surprise of his friends.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Not that long, not that great. Oh, well. I hope there weren't any mistakes in that. Anyway, please review! The Christmas Ball is coming in the second chapter after this, I think. The next chapter should be up within the next week.

To Come: Gift-wrapping, Gilderoy, and Guests.


	10. Guests and Giftwrapping

Chapter 10

(A/N) Why does everyone want me to hurry up and finish this? It's quite long, so _be patient_! There's a bunch of description in this chapter. Thanks for the reviews!

Disclaimer: I own the oh-so-wonderful plot. The song "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow," belongs to some guy… I can't remember his name, exactly.

*~*~*~*~*

Mr. James Potter Sr. stood in the front of the building he had once called "home". It hadn't changed much, he noted. The place was still drafty, the walls still dusty, the students still noisy, the caretaker still lazy, and… he loved this place. 

Walking into the familiar halls, decorated with holly, fairies, icicles, and trees, he turned and walked past the stone gargoyles with a quick "Sugar Quills". Albus Dumbledore and his ridiculous passwords. Lightly rapping the wooden door three times, he waited for the Headmaster to open the door.

"Mr. Potter! What a pleasure! Please, come in, come in," Dumbledore greeted, welcoming him in. Indeed, he had two dozen sugar quills in the penholder he had received last Christmas.

"Albus, I have come to see my son," Mr. Potter stated formally.

"Of course you have!" the man laughed heartily. In his younger days, Mr. Potter had thought that Dumbledore would make a pretty good imitation of a skinny Santa Clause. "You always seem to come around this time of year!"

"Yes," he said stiffly. "The usual. I will stay until Christmas night."

"Very good!" the headmaster clapped. "You'll be able to join in on our festivities on the night of the Ball!"

"Perhaps," he nodded. "However, I am a busy man, Albus. So don't set an extra place for me yet."

"Oh, but you'll miss your son's opening of the Ball!" Dumbledore said. "He's opening it with our Head Girl, Miss Evans. Surely you wouldn't want to miss such an event?"

"I'll try to come. Good day, Headmaster. Please inform James that I'm on my way."

*~*~*~*~*

Lily Evans detested the waltz.

Well, perhaps she didn't detest the waltz itself, but, rather, everything it reminded her of. Numerous time, she had been instructed to "step and glide, step and glide," with several boys back in the charm school, at the prefects' balls, and now again… with James Potter.

"Potter!" she hissed, as he led them to the right.

"What?"

"Wrong direction! It's the left!" she said. 

"Calm down, Evans," James said cooly, redirecting them to the left. 

"Someone's watching us," Lily murmured.

Pausing mid-step, James turned around to see his father watching the two practicing.

"Dad. Uh, hello?" he dropped Lily's hand.

"James," the man nodded slightly. "Is there any need for me to ask for the reason you are dancing the waltz with a girl in the middle of the common room?"

"Oh. Right, uh… We were practicing for the ball," James said.

"Right. Well, lead the way, son," Mr. Potter said, as James walked over.

"We'll practice later," he nodded to her, brushing past.

Lily watched confusedly as James and his father left through the portrait hole. _That_ was his father? She failed to see the resemblance in character, though the appearance was obvious. 

*~*~*~*~*

"So, you're Head Boy," Mr. Potter nodded his approval as he took a seat in the Head Boy and Girl's room.

The room itself was nice enough, James had noted, though he and Lily rarely spent their time there, as they didn't have use for it. Still, it was occasionally used for the Marauder's meetings, referred to as the Marauder's Headquarters. The room was in the fashion of a common room, the sofas and benches set around the carpet in the middle. A fire crackled in the front of the room, a coffee table set in the middle of the carpet. There was a writing desk near the fire, a bookshelf next to it. Across the room, there was a large window, which had the large, dark maroon drapes drawn.

"Yes, I am," James said. He had a tendency to speak formally in the presence of his father.

"And I assume the girl you were dancing with is the Head Girl?"

"Yes, sir."

__

Sir. He hated that, yet he still called his father the title. How many other teenagers called their fathers "sir"?

"Hmm. Is she a good student?" Mr. Potter asked.

"I would say so," James said carefully. He had to choose his words precisely, a habit he had learned at eight.

"Your mother had me bring her Christmas present for you. She said not to open it until Christmas," James Potter Senior said, handing his son a package wrapped brightly in red and green.

"Thank you," James took the package and put it aside.

"Yes. I trust that you bought the appropriate gifts? I won't have my money wasted on foolish sentimental things, James-"

"I know, I know," James nodded. His father's rules. Acquaintances, friends, important acquaintances, and so forth. There was even a rule on what to get acquaintances for one he didn't especially like. Was his _life_ filled with "acquaintances"? And just a few friends?

"Good," Mr. Potter nodded. "How much left?"

"Six galleons, two sickles," James said, handing the remaining money over to his father.

"Good. So… how are your studies?" 

"It's Christmas break, dad," he said. Sometimes his father forgot the more important things in life, such as holidays, his family… James swallowed. His father hadn't been at his birth, nor any birthdays after he turned thirteen. "You're a man," he had said, "And men don't need birthday parties."

"Ah. So, how's quidditch?"

"It's alright. We drew one, and the other was postponed because Eva- uh, Lily Evans, the Head Girl, caught the snitch somehow," James said.

"A member of the audience caught the snitch?" Mr. Potter frowned. "Perhaps the charms on that thing aren't strong enough."

"It's fine, dad."

This was followed by a long, painful silence between father and son. In James' son, the two might as well be strangers; his father had missed out on most of his life, despite all the letters he had written him. 

His mother encouraged it, despite his protests. "He'll appreciate it, dear," she had said. So he kept writing, though his father never wrote back. Now, it seemed as if his father were just a name at the top of his letters. As if, "dad" was just a name without a meaning, an imaginary friend, to whom he wrote everything to. Most of it was about the Marauders, quidditch, school, things Dumbledore had said, and a certain girl by the name of Lily Evans.

At the thought of her, James felt himself involuntarily smile. How many times had he wrote to his father "Today, Lily Evans pushed me into the lake", or "Lily Evans hexed me today," or perhaps, "Lily Evans actually topped me in Astronomy"? Countless times. In fact, most of those letters mentioned her name at least once.

Not necessarily _good_ things, but funny. He found the thought of Lily Evans pleasantly amusing? Christmas certainly did affect the mind in a strange way.

*~*~*~*~*

"Tomorrow's the Ball!"

Lily rolled her eyes as Evelyn bounced up and down on her four poster bed.

"Careful, Ev, you might hit the top," she warned.

Her friend ignored her. "Tomorrow's the ball, tomorrow's the ball, tomorrow's the BALL!" 

"You mentioned that," she said sarcastically, turning from the antique writing desk, similar to the one in the Head Boy and Girl's room.

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve!" Bella announced to the world, swinging the door open. Joining Evelyn on her own four poster bed, she bounced up and down, saying, "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, tomorrow's Christmas Eve, tomorrow's CHRISTMAS EVE!"

"The ball!"

"Christmas Eve!"

"Dancing!"

"Presents!"

"How romantic!"

"How fun!"

"I'll look great!"

"I'll look great!"

Lily sighed. "Are you _sure_ you're seventeen? You two sound more like little seven year olds to me," she said.

"_That's_ because you sound _twenty_-seven, Lils," Evelyn said, bouncing up and down, continuing her chant, "Tomorrow's the ball!"

"So in other words, I baby-sit seven year olds in the bodies of teenagers on the brink of adulthood the entire school year, without pay. Lovely," Lily said skeptically. "And _don't_ call me that."

"Spoil sport!"

"Stick-in-the-mud!"

"Party pooper!"

Groaning, Lily muttered, "Can't beat 'em, join 'em." Thus, she clambered onto Evelyn's bed and joined in, "Tomorrow's the day Potter and Lockhart get to ruin my Christmas!"

"Try something with less syllables," Evelyn advised.

*~*~*~*~*

"Get your gifts, Lily Billy! It's wrapping time!" Sirius cried gleefully, prancing to the first year's dorms, he shouted through the doors, "Wrapping time! Wrapping Time! Glimpse at your presents time!"

Rolling her eyes, Lily retrieved her gifts as Sirius continued to announce the arrival of gift wrapping time.

"Sirius? The first years are at the Hogsmeade, along with the second and third years."

Sirius pouted. "Why weren't _we_ invited?"

"Because we went a two days ago," Lily replied, performing a quick invisibility charm on her presents as Sirius approached her.

"Oh. Well, where's the fourth, fifth, and sixth years?"

"Attempting to bring to life the incredibly large snowman you made a few days ago," she said. "And the others are trying their hand at taming Hagrid's new pets, for extra credit in their Magical Creatures class."

"So they won't be back from the hospital for another week," Sirius said, obviously disappointed. "Oh, well. James! Peter! Remmie! Evelyn! Bella! PRESENT WRAPPING TIME!"

Almost instantly, Lily's friends bounded into the room, followed closely by the Marauders, with arm fulls of gifts, with a cloth draped over them, or some other way to conceal them. 

"Now that we're all here," Sirius announced happily, "WRAP YOUR GIFTS!" He spread a large selection of scissors, tape, and wrapping paper in front of them.

"WAIT!" he suddenly cried out.

"What?" Lily asked exasperatingly.

"Nothing, I just always wanted to say that," Sirius grinned.

*~*~*~*~*

In the warm firelight, the group of Gryffindors chatted happily while wrapping up their Christmas presents for each other.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!" Sirius sang out.

"Sirius, you don't know the lyrics, and you can't even sing!" Lily complained, charming her wrapping paper to say "Merry Christmas" in four different languages.

"Oh, let's hear you sing, then!" Sirius shot back, failing miserably to wrap a gift without wrecking it completely.

"If you want," Lily shrugged. "But it's rather long-"

"Just sing!" Sirius snapped.

"_Oh, the weather outside is frightful,  
But the fire is so delightful,  
And since we've no place to go,  
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. _

It doesn't show signs of stopping,  
And I brought some corn for popping;  
The lights are turned way down low,  
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

When we finally say good night,  
How I'll hate going out in the storm;  
But if you really hold me tight,  
All the way home I'll be warm.

The fire is slowly dying,  
And, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing,  
But as long as you love me so.  
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

"That was good," Sirius nodded.

Lily shrugged, "Glad you approve."

"Next you and Prongsie-boy can show us the waltz!" Sirius clapped.

James frowned. "I don't think so, Sirius."

Lily reached for another present and stripped off the invisibility charm on it, but covered it almost immediately in the wrapping paper. "Done with Black's," she said.

Sirius perked up. "_Oooh_! Is that _mine_? Lemme see, lemme see!"

"No," Lily said, placing it aside.

"Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

"No," Lily replied, starting to wrap another present.

"And a cherry?"

"No."

"Done with yours, Sirius," Remus announced, putting aside a box-shaped present, wrapped in red, with a dog wearing a collar of holly randomly shown all over it.

"_Oooh_! Is that _mine_? Lemme see, lemme see!"

*~*~*~*~*

Lily was rudely awakened the next day by her two friends shaking her.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Evelyn shouted.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," Bella said, shaking her awake.

Groaning, Lily woke up. "It's six in the morning. Let me sleep."

"But you always wake up at six thirty!" Evelyn complained. 

"Six _thirty_," Lily mumbled crossly. "That leaves me another half hour of sleep. Go _away_."

"It's Christmas Eve!" Evelyn pouted.

Yawning, Lily mumbled a dressing charm, appearing in her uniform.

"You're wearing your_ uniform_ on _Christmas Eve_?" Bella asked.

"Yes," Lily muttered. 

*~*~*~*~*

In the Boys' Dormitories, James received a similar wake-up call.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Sirius shouted into his ear.

"No," James said, turning in his bed.

"It's Christmas Eve!" Peter said, bounding up to his bed.

"Wake up!" Sirius repeated.

"No. Go away. I need my sleep."

"You know, if you wake up, there's a chance they won't bother you as much," Remus said, also fully dressed.

"But-"

"Catch your beauty sleep later," Sirius said. "Today's CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"A bit louder, Sirius," James yawned, "I don't believe they heard you way down in Australia."

"Alrighty, then, TODAY'S CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Satisfied, he smiled. "I think they heard me."

*~*~*~*~*

"Good Morning, James," a voice said.

"Dad?" James asked, looking up from his breakfast.

"Yes," His father nodded. "So, I trust you prepared all you gifts?"

"Yeah- I mean, Yes, I did," he said.

"Good," Mr. Potter nodded. "Well, I'll be off to my room."

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you be at the Christmas Ball tonight?"

"I'll think about it."

James sighed, knowing "I'll think about it," was his father's way of saying, "I'm too busy, no." Perhaps he was too disappointed to notice, but a few seats away, Lily Evans was watching, and looked as though she was about to say something, but changed her mind.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) What'd you think? Good, I hope. And this only took me… less than a week to get up! Yay! The next chapter will be up within a week. Well, review, review, review!

__


	11. Musings and the Beginning of the Ball

Chapter 11

(A/N) Thanks for all the reviews! As I have an article for my school newspaper due in a few days, you won't be seeing me update this for a while. And, about Mr. Potter… he gets better in a later appearance in the story (much, much later appearance). This one's long, and it only took me a while to get it up!

Disclaimer: I own the plot, and Sirius owns his love for candy and childishness.

*~*~*~*~*

"Patty cake, patty cake, baker's man, bake me a cake as fast as you can-"

"Uh, Sirius?" James frowned at his friend, playing a hand game with no person in particular. "While I'm sure that's a very entertaining thing, could you refrain from doing that? Snape's starting to get an evil glint in his eye, and I think he's getting ideas that involve you and St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo?" Sirius frowned. "Oh, I've never heard of him. There was Peter, there was Valentine, there was Michael, there was Andrew, and I think there was a Joan of Arc, but I don't remember a Mungo-"

Sirius stopped, and shrugged. "Oh, well. I may be wrong."

James rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me," a girl with brown hair and hazel eyes stood before James, "I couldn't help noticing, was that man your _father_?"

"Yes," James replied stiffly. "Yes, he was."

"He looks like the Minister of Ma-" suddenly (almost magically), she stopped talking and walked back to her seat.

"What was that all about?" Sirius asked. 

"No idea," James said, returning to his bowl of now soggy cereal.

*~*~*~*~*

James retreated to the Common Room, a few hours before the Ball.

He hadn't participated in most of the day's pranks, and had advised the Marauders not to prank either, for his father always seemed to be close by. The presence of his father was always unexpected, and James had the vague idea that he was using the invisibility cloak to keep a watch at his son's activities.

After making sure that his father was, indeed, in his room signing contracts and looking over important matters at work, James walked into the Common Room, fully ready for release from the criticism he often received when with his father.

And yet…

"Hello, James Potter."

James didn't turn. He knew the voice, had known it since first year, and it didn't look forward to facing the owner of the voice.

"Evans," he nodded, slowly turning. "What, exactly, are you doing in on a fine Christmas Eve afternoon such as this one?"

"I could ask the same of you," she said calmly. "However, whereas it's quite common for me to be in here, it's more questionable as to why _you're_ here. Shouldn't you be with your friends, terrorizing the wits out of little first years?"

James bit down a long stream of insults, knowing that his father could probably hear if he called her one of the _many_ words he had in mind. "No, Evans. I'm preoccupied at the moment."

"Preoccupied with what, exactly?" Lily asked, still calmly. "It appears to me that you have nothing better to do than to sit around and mope, and, dare I say, act your age ever since the arrival of your father."

"Yes," James snapped testily. "I am _existing_, and it takes a great deal of effort to do, so please kindly allow me to exist in peace."

"Oh, but I do _enjoy_ corrupting one's happy existence," Lily said. "I trust you won't mind if I exist, breath, _and_ display my sense of intelligence by reading a book in your presence?"

James wasn't in the mood of debating with her. This Christmas Eve was proving to be a disappointing one, and he wasn't quite looking forward to the morrow, either.

"Your display of intelligence, Evans?" James laughed. "I disagree."

"Now there's a laugh," Lily replied. "Like you _are_? Please, Potter. We all know you've got Professor McGonagall wrapped around your little finger. However fooled you may have the professors, the fact doesn't escape me that you are a selfish, spoiled brat, who appears to think that the student population is absolutely taken by his charms and can't tell the difference between a Befuddling Charm and a Confusing Charm."

"Can I help it if the entire student body would rather watch me than see the sight of _your_ ugly face?"

"Not the entire student body, Potter," Lily said cooly. "Just the swooning, ditzy, mentally-lacking group of girls who follow you around like a pack of lost puppies."

"Oh, and anyone prefers you to me aside from your boring, bland, semi-ignorant group of suitors who follow _you_ around the school? And I must note, they all have the same characteristics, and you wouldn't be able to tell one from the other, based on their personalities. If I didn't know any better, I would say you photocopied a single person and turned them all into gits who are brainwashed to follow you around."

"Oh, yes. Each and every day, as soon as I wake, I grab a random guy out of the halls and make an exact copy of him. I never thought anyone would catch me," Lily said sarcastically.

"I'm sure you do," James said cooly. "Where do you stash all the useless prototypes? They can't be of any use to you after you've drained their personality into mindless copies, can they?"

"Likewise, Potter. Do _any_ of those girls in your fan club think for themselves? I'm sure it's _all_ they can do to choose an outfit without worrying what everyone else thinks of it. Which is certainly a pity, since we all have the same uniform," Lily said. "I'm sure the dears are a mess, now that we can dress however we'd like at winter holidays."

"I'm not going to waste my time arguing with you, Evans," James said, walking off. "Good _afternoon_."

Lily stared after him, in a deep chamber of her mind wondering _why_ she hated the sight of him so much. Unbeknownst to her, he was doing the same thing.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi, dad," James greeted, not at all trying to sound sincere.

Mr. Potter looked up from his papers. "Excuse me?"

"_Hello_, dad."

"Incorrect."

"Good afternoon, sir," James answered dutifully, mentally smacking himself on the head for forgetting.

"Same to you, James. May I ask what brings you here?" his father frowned. "I'm in the middle of something important, and I _cannot_ be disrupted. However, as you _are_ here, I should like to know _why_."

"I came in here because I wanted to ask if you would be at the Ball. And to give you and mother my Christmas present," James said, holding out two brightly wrapped boxes, one smaller than the other.

"I will see if I can go, James. I told you that. No need to remind me of it, Albus Dumbledore already did several times," his father said dismissively. "As for your presents, I'll take them now. Your mother's friend, Gazella, Gallea, Ezzella-"

"Gailea, dad," James said.

"Right. She wanted me to give you her present while I was here. And Denise Walker, a daughter of one of my colleagues, sends her greetings and looks forward to meet you when the summer is over. She's about your age, I should think."

"Is she pretty?"

Mr. Potter sighed. "I would say so."

"Is she petite?"

"Yes."

"Is she dressed in pink dresses all the time?"

"She wears purple occasionally," Mr. Potter said. "What does it matter?"

James ignored his father's question. "Is she blonde?"

"Natural blonde, in fact."

"Is she polite?"

"Very good manners."

"Can she answer questions well?"

"Of course, her father _has_ sent her to several Charm Schools," Mr. Potter frowned. 

"Well," James asked, "Is she any different from Sherry, Angela, Michelle, Sarah, Ana, Theresa, Camilla, Estelle, or Amanda?"

"Now, James, I don't think that's fair-"

"I'm not interested in the witless type, dad," James said simply. "And the witless type is the kind of girl you appear to enjoy seeing me with."

"Fine, fine. Choose one of those girls that follow you around all the time. They're quite taken to you, it seems," his father said impatiently.

"Every single one of them is a swooning, ditzy, mentally-lacking girl without a mind of her own, and follows me around like a lost-"

James stopped abruptly. Lily had said that. He hated it when she was right.

"Well, James, it appears to me that the smarter girls aren't quite as attracted by mere good looks and money. Your mother was an exception. What kind of girl _do_ you like?"

"Someone who actually realizes I have a mind, dad," James said. "Or, maybe someone who has a mind and doesn't need _mine_ to make choices for them. Someone who won't agree with every thing I say. Perhaps questions me once in a while. Every single girl you've ever set me up with has asked me if they look good, or if they should eat the salad with or without the carrots, and the minute I say no, they ask me what _I_ want them to do."

"So in other words, someone who _doesn't_ like you?" Well, it seems that all the girls in this school are polite, witty, and can carry a polite, proper conversation. However, you don't like _one_ of them. And I guarantee you that not one of them fits your description."

"One does," James said softly.

"And who is that lucky girl?"

James didn't answer. However, the howling wind outside of the window seemed to be whispering _"Li-lee, Li-lee, Li-lee_."

*~*~*~*~*

About half an hour before the ball, there was a quick rapping on the door.

James looked up, but Mr. Potter did not. "Come in," he said, not glancing once from his table of papers.

"Potter, you should-" Lily stopped, seeing James' father. 

"Yes?" James asked in a strangled sort of voice.

"Professor Dumbledore wants us to be at the Grand Hall in twenty minutes," she said politely, glancing at Mr. Potter, who had finally looked up from his papers to get a good look at her.

"An you are…?" he frowned, standing up to meet her.

"Lily Evans, sir. I'm the Head Girl," she said.

"Head Girl. Good, then you should be smart."

"I like to think that I am, sir," Lily said. "However, that's just my opinion."

"Do you think for yourself?"

"I prefer that to someone _telling_ me what to do, though I wouldn't fail to listen to instructions," Lily said. _Why was this man asking her such questions?_

"How long would it take you to debate whether or not you should have carrots in your salad?"

These questions were getting a bit ridiculous. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'd like to know _why_ I'm answering these questions."

Mr. Potter turned around. "Well, James, there you are. She fits the description, doesn't she?"

James groaned and hit his head on the wall behind his father.

"Excuse my son and his manners, Miss Evans," Mr. Potter extended a hand for her to shake. "He seems to be busy…"

"Existing," Lily said helpfully.

"Quick thinker, you are," Mr. Potter nodded. She couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing by the way he said it. "I am Mr. James Potter Senior, by the way. James' father. We were just discussing-"

"Dad, please, I'd rather not discuss this right now," James said.

Lily gave him a quick look that clearly said, _I'll find out later, even if you don't tell me_.

"Remind me why you're here, Miss Evans?" James' father asked.

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see us in the Grand Hall in twenty minutes, sir," Lily repeated herself. "Oh, and to drop off James' Christmas present."

"Thank you," James said, in a strained voice. "I'll get yours."

"You might want to dress up," she called after him.

Mr. Potter turned his attention back to her. "Tell me, is my son a good student?"

Lily paused. Just out of spite, she _could_ say no, which would leave James in deep trouble. Still… "Excellent student, sir."

"Good. Is it true what he says? That the girls that follow him are a group of, how did he put it, swooning, ditzy, mentally-lacking group of girls, who-"

"Follow him around like a pack of lost puppies," Lily finished for him. 

"Exactly," Mr. Potter nodded.

"I wouldn't know," Lily said. "Find one and ask her."

"Miss Evans, are you going to prepare yourself? If you'd like my son to do so himself, I should like to see you ready, yourself."

Lily muttered a charm under her breath, and her uniform was instantly replaced with a white dress, strapped, sprinkled with sparkles, and a mesh-like material shawl, along with matching white shoes. Her hair was clipped back, in a half ponytail, the rest hanging freely down her back.

"Rea…dy," James looked at Lily. "When'd you change?"

"Charm," Lily said simply. "One far too advanced for you to get."

James inwardly rolled his eyes, though he didn't do it in the presence of his father. No matter how dressed up, Lily Evans was Lily Evans.

*~*~*~*~*

Gilderoy Lockhart smiled to himself as he spritzed himself briefly with an expensive cologne.

"Can't believe _you_ snagged a date with her, mate," a fellow Hufflepuff next to him in front of the mirror said. "Lily Evans, whew! How'd you manage, when the rest o' us got turned down?"

"It's a simple matter," Gilderoy said, "I was simply so irresistible to her that she _had_ to fall to my charms. Why, she practically _begged_ me to ask her, and when I did, she accepted whole-heartedly."

The Hufflepuff looked at him skeptically, but didn't say anything. "_I'm _going with Anna DeLasseile. One of the richest girls in the school."

"And yet, not the _prettiest_, is she?" Gilderoy asked smugly, straightening his bow tie.

"She's fairly pretty," the boy argued. 

"Besides," another boy said wryly, "Hemmonds got his date by asking her while she was _paying_ attention, Lockhart."

Gilderoy didn't seem bothered. "Lily Evans was well aware of my question," he said stiffly.

"_After_ she answered you," another boy sniggered.

"We all _know_ she didn't _want_ to go with you," Davey Hemmonds said. "You tricked her into it."

"I did no such thing!" Gilderoy cried out indignantly, dropping a can of hair spray on his foot.

"Well, she didn't look too happy, if you ask me," a boy across the room said. "Everyone _knows_ that she and Potter have got the hots for each other."

"But she hates him!" Gilderoy said desperately.

"They _say_ they do, but it's only a matter of time…"

"She was begging me to ask her out and when I did she was more than happy to oblige!" Gilderoy said quickly. "Why, she even let me pick out her dress for her!"

"You didn't _give_ her a choice, mate," Davey said. "You left it with her and took off before she could argue."

Gilderoy glared at the others. They were _Hufflepuffs_, for goodness sakes! Weren't they supposed to be _nice_?

*~*~*~*~*

It was quite surprising to see Lily Evans walking into the Grand Hall escorted by James Potter.

The two even appeared to be having a pleasant conversation. Unless one got close enough to actually _hear _them.

"Potter, remind me why we're doing this?" Lily asked in a sugary sweet tone.

"Because my dad thought we were going together," James replied, in the same tone.

"Oh. As soon as we're out of his sight, can you _get away from me_?" she asked, smiling at him.

"He's here for the entire ball, Evans," James said, smiling pleasantly back. "Otherwise I'd have dropped you back in the Common Room."

"Oh? Remind me why you were _stupid enough to invite him if he was going to make us play charades all night_?" Lily asked, as he helped her into her chair.

"Because."

"Because why?" Lily's pleasant tone dropped.

"Because, because."

"Because, because why?"

"Because, because, because."

"Because, because, because why?"

"Because, because, bec-"

"Lily!" Gilderoy Lockhart's voice rang across the room. "Why aren't you wearing the dress I gave you?"

"Because."

"Because…?"

"Because it's really not… my type of style, Gilderoy," she said politely.

"Oh. Well, would you like to dance?" Gilderoy smiled at her.

Lily frowned. "Gilderoy, do you even _know_ the waltz?"

"I taught it to myself when I was eight," he smiled. Lying through his teeth, James could tell.

"I'm sure," Lily murmured. "However, P- James and I have to open the dance with the waltz. Excuse us."

Gilderoy glared after the two, as he watched James whisper something in her ear, and she replied. Lily was supposed to be _his_ date!

*~*~*~*~*

"Wow, you managed to call me by my first name," James whispered in her ear, hoping his father hadn't heard.

"Yes, and now that we're out of hearing distance, I resume to calling you 'Potter'," Lily said.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, students and professors, ghosts and goblins, cats and owls-"

"Albus!" McGonagall's shrill voice sounded. "_Get to the point_!"

Dumbledore smiled. "As I was saying, welcome to Hogwarts' hundred and fifth annual Christmas Ball! As usual, we have the prefects, teachers and Head Boy and Girl open the Ball, then everyone else gets to try their hand at not stepping on each other's feet."

McGonagall threw him a sharp look.

"In other words," Dumbledore continued, "Please give a round of applause to your professors, prefects, and Head Boy and Girl, as they have all worked _very_ hard for this. Introducing…"

"Albus! The point!" McGonagall said.

"Patience, Minnie, patience."

Sirius grinned at the use of his nickname for the Transfiguration professor, and clapped.

"Thank you, Mr. Black," Dumbledore chuckled. "Introducing, your fellow students who have worked very hard and also helped decorate the very _Grand_, don't mind the pun, Hall you see before you now… Lily Evans and James Potter!"

Lily smiled, as did James. The crowd clapped politely, and their friends in the back cheered like maniacs. Sirius snapped a photo.

"It'll last longer," he whispered loudly enough for anyone within the span of thirty people. "And we'll have a picture of them smiling together to prove how good they look together."

Lily stuck out a foot quite gracefully and kicked him in the shin.

James shrugged, and the two swept over to the center of the floor, joined by prefects and staff. Soon, when everyone was in closed position, the band, made up of a group of large, clanking suits of armor, attempted to strike up a waltzing melody, one of them singing quite off-key.

James tuned out the horrible music and whispered to Lily, "My contribution." He pointed his wand at the band, and turned the suits of armor band, or, the Metal Clankers, as they had named their band, into a grand piano and piano player, with a stringed section and band section.

"Mr. Potter's contribution to the Ball," Dumbledore said to the students. "As you may know, the students and teachers are required to make one such contribution. The students are allowed to make their contribution at anytime before midnight."

James grinned as Lily stepped on his foot. Hard. "Payback," she said.

"For what?"

"Stepping on _my_ feet."

James laughed softly and led them into a box step.

It would have been a perfect occasion had not Gilderoy Lockhart been watching from the side, looking quite jealous and casting nasty glances at James. 

Mr. Potter wasn't really watching. He was observing the other girls at the ball, looking for one that stood out, one that both he and his son would like. The Head Girl appeared to be a nice young lady, but she was a bit _too_ witty. Frowning, he directed his attention to his son and his dance partner. He had been quite sure that she would be a horrible dancer, though he had been proved wrong. The girl moved with a grace, and appeared to be familiar with the waltz. He wondered vaguely if there was anything going on between his son and the young vision in white.

Everyone else seemed to think so.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) DONE!!!!!!!!! That was a long chapter! More hints of L/J, I can tell you they still hate each other a lot. It goes to show how well they can fool everyone… even themselves. And for the L/J fans, be patient, it'll come out sooner or later, just later. Much later. It's long! Review, PLEASE!


	12. Gifts and the Ball

Chapter 12

(A/N) I got a flame! Hehehe… So. _Very_ amusing. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! Oh, and I'm not sure if it's "Happy Christmas" or "Merry Christmas" in England, so don't mind if I'm wrong.

Disclaimer (**Different and interesting. Sharpen up your Greek Mythology**): I own the plot. Narcissus is a character in Greek mythology, he's the one that Echo, the nymph (?) cursed to fall in love with someone the same way she loved him, and would never actually get his love. They say he fell in love with his reflection in the pond, and ended up turning into a little yellow flower that always was found near the water, "admiring its reflection". And Echo… I can't remember, but they ended up naming the little flower "Narcissus". And that's a real myth, not my own. And the flower's a real one, too. And the songs, you can look up yourself, I obviously don't own any of them.

*~*~*~*~*

"Mistletoe," Lily whispered looking up at the ceiling. "Duck."

The two edged away from the (hazardous, in their opinion) mistletoe, and watched as the small clump of green and red drifted over another unsuspecting couple and stuck there.

"I'd feel bad for them," James murmured, "But then, it's Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. So, it's actually quite humorous."

Lily hid a laugh. Indeed, the mistletoe was dangling over Malfoy and Snape, who were still with their own dancing partners and were too busy to notice.

"They shouldn't be so close to each other," she said. "Quite an easy target, it makes them. And now, we'll have to scar the minds of any fifth years by watching those two kiss."

"Or," James countered, "they could wait for it to disappear at midnight, and remain within five paces of each other for the rest of the night."

Lily glanced at the ceiling, "Mistletoe."

The two waltzed quickly out of range of the mistletoe and watched as it struck the next two unsuspecting victims: Gilderoy Lockhart and… his reflection in the mirror.

"That's it," James said under his breath, "The mistletoe's rigged."

Lily shrugged. "Maybe it means that he's totally and completely in love with himself."

"Oh, so it's a Hogwarts version of Narcissus, huh?"

"I guess. Duck," Lily said. The mistletoe passed them.

Several pairs had been coupled by the mistletoe by then, and most were fairly odd pairings. 

*~*~*~*~*

"… And that concludes the opening dance. You may all move onto the dance floor now," Dumbledore's voice sounded.

Lily and James quickly parted, Lily running into none other than Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Lily! Shall we have a go at the waltz, then?" Gilderoy beamed. "I was quite the champion back at the hometown, you know. You might have some trouble following my steps, but no worries, I'll teach you."

With that, he dragged her onto the dance floor.

"But-"

"I know, I know," he said knowingly, "I'm _far_ too advanced for you to catch up to my level, but you _shall_ learn."

"Gilderoy, you don't _know_ the-"

"Turn, turn, turn!" he said, suddenly spinning her.

"G-"

"Now we dip," he said, dipping her a tad too far; her nose was close to the floor.

"Gilderoy, this isn't-"

"And now, I swirl you off your feet," he smiled at her, attempting to spin her again.

Naturally, she fell. Into the arms of James Potter, that is.

*~*~*~*~*

Mr. Potter, startled, looked up to see his son catching the Head Girl before she fell.

Now _that_ was very unorthodox. Not to mention, a little too much show of affection in public. 

But, he had nothing to worry about. If his son _really_ liked the girl, he could forbid him to ever see her. Or, he could have her transfer to Beauxbatons. He most certainly wouldn't have a muggle-born daughter-in-law, if he could help it. The press would have a field day! He could already hear the headlines: "Potter Heir weds Muggle-born Witch". Not that he had anything against her, aside from the fact that she was a bit too smart, meaning that she would most definitely be one quick to argue… and the press would likely pick up on that, also.

No, Lily Evans was out of the picture.

*~*~*~*~*

James looked disgustedly in his father's direction.

He could tell, from the look on his father's face, that he was already jumping to conclusions. 

"Potter, let go of me," she hissed, none too appreciatively. 

"More than happy to," he replied, and dropped her. She fell again, this time, onto the floor. 

Getting up again, Lily glared at his retreating figure. "Excuse me, Gilderoy," she said to the Hufflepuff, "I have to make my contribution now."

*~*~*~*~*

"_Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas,_

May your heart be light,

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight…"

James turned to see Lily on the stage with the piano player, singing. 

"_Have yourself a merry little Christmas,_

Make the Yule-tide gay,

From now on, our troubles will be miles away…"

"James, come here," a stern voice said suddenly.

"Dad?" James turned.

"There's something going on between you and her, isn't there?" Mr. Potter asked, looking at Lily.

"_Here we are as in olden days,_

Happy golden days of yore…"

"Where'd you get that idea?" James frowned. He and Evans showed absolutely _no_ signs of liking each other, how would anyone, even someone as narrow minded as his father, be under the impression that they did?

"I've seen the way you two look at each other…"

"_Faithful friends who are dear to us_

Gather near us once more…"

James frowned. What look? "We don't look, dad, we glare."

"Hmm. That's what I said," Mr. Potter muttered. 

" _Through the years we all will be together_

If the Fates allow.

Hang a shining star above the highest bough,

And have yourself a Merry Little Christmas now."

Lily smiled as the audience applauded. "_My_ contribution," she said.

James just looked at her, trying to see, for once, what everyone seemed to see in her. The glowing personality, the beautiful eyes, the pleasant features, the calm and composed air around her. 

He couldn't see it. 

*~*~*~*~*

James danced with dozens of girls that night, one advantage of going alone, he noted.

Dumbledore chuckled to himself, as his eyes wandered to the Slytherin table. 

"Minerva," he said, "Have you seen Mr. Black around?"

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Why, no. Whatever do you mean, Albus?"

"Have you, by any chance, seen the dinner dishes of the Slytherins?" Dumbledore asked, his expression altogether too calm.

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to answer, when Lucius Malfoy's voice rang out, "_BLACK_!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

*~*~*~*~*

Sirius Black laughed heartily as he sped out of the Grand Hall, hearing Malfoy's yell.

Peter had been the inspiration, ironically. The boy had wanted to grab some more food the other day, and had went to the Kitchens to get some. Professor McGonagall had walked in, so he had transformed into his animagi form as a rat before she could see him. Then, before he knew it, he was on a dinner plate, and was suddenly popped onto a table; the Slytherin's table, to be exact, at dinner. The unlucky Slytherin, Severus Snape, found a rat in his soup, and screamed, as did every single other Slytherin.

So the Slytherins all shared a common phobia of rats, Sirius had found out.

It was a simple charm, really, turning all their food at the Christmas Ball to resemble a rat and not lose its flavor. Still, it sent many of the Slytherins looking petrified at the sight of it. Pale-faced and stiffened, they all threw their dinners out, only to discover it was a trick, and could no longer receive any more food.

He _loved_ Christmas.

*~*~*~*~*

"A wishbone?" Evelyn frowned.

"Muggle tradition," Lily explained. "You make a wish, then we both pull it, and whoever gets the longer piece gets their wish granted."

"_Really_?" Evelyn asked. "So there's magic in the muggle world, too?"

"No, it's just a silly tradition," Lily shrugged. "But since this _is_ Hogwarts…"

Evelyn laughed. "I wish that I could get a puppy."

"You weren't supposed to tell me," Lily said. "Now your wish won't come true."

*~*~*~*~*

"Ice cream, Mr. Potter?"

James declined. "No, sir. It's cold enough outside as it is."

Dumbledore chuckled. "So," he said, popping a chocolate in his mouth, "are you enjoying the Ball?"

"Yes, I am," James said.

"That's good," the Headmaster said. "In fact, it's _grand_."

James nodded, and reached for a chocolate. "Have any other prefects made their contributions?"

"Indeed they have, Mr. Potter. Mr. Patil and Miss Patil, the fifth year prefects of Ravenclaw, contributed the chocolate you're eating now," Dumbledore answered, eating another chocolate.

"They're good," James said.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "Their mother made it, in fact. Miss Patil told me that her brother was, I quote, too lazy to get off his bum to get a contribution of his own, so they both gave the same thing. Amusing when you make brother and sister prefects of the same house, isn't it?"

*~*~*~*~*

The Christmas Ball was, undoubtedly, a success. Even Peter was having a good time, dancing with a Hufflepuff girl who did, in fact, "fancy" him, as Sirius had jokingly put it.

Amos Diggory wasn't too happy, though, as the entire Hufflepuff female population was paying much more attention to James Potter than him. Still, he was contented to dance with one girl.

"Students, get your gifts ready, midnight is a minute away," Professor Dumbledore said, as the band struck up a lively, upbeat, jazzy version of "Jingle Bells".

Lily smiled, and said a quick charm, and her presents suddenly appeared in a neat pile on her table. Others, however, didn't have quite an easy time.

Most students had resorted to the Summoning Charm, and the gifts were colliding into each other, whacking their owners on the head, or dropping midway.

"Oh, dear," Lily said, concealing an amused laugh as Gilderoy's gift knocked him off his chair.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, getting up. "I suppose I was just a tad enthusiastic when I said it."

*~*~*~*~*

James' gifts all appeared in an organized pile on his table, through the use of a Retrieving Charm. Well, it was _supposed_ to be a Summoning Charm, but since he wasn't doing too well at Charms, it came out a Retrieving Charm, which worked out much better, he'd found.

"Good, good," Mr. Potter nodded his approval at the gifts.

"Glad you think so, sir," James replied, sitting up straight.

*~*~*~*~*

Sirius impressed quite a few girls by revealing that he had managed to find a way to apparate _objects_ in Hogwarts.

Alright, he hadn't.

He couldn't quite get the charm right, as had Lily, nor did he wish to give someone a black eye with the weight of most gifts by using a Summoning Charm, so he took the easy way out by bringing all the gifts with him under James' Invisibility Cloak. 

*~*~*~*~*

"Merry Christmas, Lily," Gilderoy said, presenting her a small box.

Picking off the ribbon and taking off the box top, Lily found a snowflake. As most knew, it was quite hard to get a snowflake, as it usually melted before one could cast the proper charm on it. The snowflake was in a glass dome that fit in her palm, to enlarge it.

"Why, thank you, Gilderoy," Lily smiled. It was a nice gesture of him to go through all the trouble… until she saw the price tag, which read, "Two knuts."

As anyone knew, a _real_ snowflake cost around thirty Galleons, as it took so much care in the process, and if he had made it himself, it would have been worth twenty-four Galleons, tops. So… _two knuts_? Still, it was a realistic fake, so she was pleased anyway.

"Here's your present," she said, handing him a red wrapped gift.

Curiously, he tore off the wrapping paper, and found-

"A… book," he said uncertainly.

"Yes," Lily said. "You mentioned you enjoyed classics once." Of course, she knew he'd never _touched_ a classic book, such as _Great Expectations_, but the boy claimed he did, so why not?

"Oh. I _love_ classics," Gilderoy said. 

"I'm sure you do," Lily smiled. "But it isn't _really_ a book."

He looked a great deal relieved.

"It's hollowed out on the inside, and serves as a box."

Opening the "covers", he found a empty inside, with a card and two knuts in it.

"Thanks."

*~*~*~*~*

James sighed as his father wrote off every gift he received as "too personal," "too cheap", "too extravagant", "too useless", or "too impersonal".

So far, he'd gotten a heap of presents from his admirers and friends. They went through this every year, and this was the first time his father had publicly criticized the gifts.

"Dad, can you stop? I can't see what's wrong with Snape sending me a roll of toilet paper, or Sirius sending me a toothbrush."

Sirius had known about the entire "presents standards", with his gifts always being "too personal". This time, it was "personal" with the involvement of personal hygiene, his way of a joke, James had explained. And Snape… he just didn't like him.

"It wasn't funny," Mr. Potter said. "Now, open that Miss Evans' gift. I'd like to see if _she_ can come up with a proper gift."

James sighed. No one, absolutely no one, with the exception of his mother and his father's colleagues at work, was able to come up with the "proper gift".

Picking off the wrapper carefully, and folding it aside, he picked out…

"_Pride & Prejudice_, _Great Expectations_," he said, shaking his head. "_Wuthering Heights_, _Black Beauty_, _The Odyssey, Romeo & Juliet_… and a comb." 

"Finally! Someone in this school who can get proper gifts!" Mr. Potter nodded.

James frowned, and read the card:

"_Potter:_

I thought you might want to reacquaint yourself with a few classics. Oh, and there's a comb, too. Perhaps you've never seen one. I have step-by-step instructions for using a comb on the back of this. Hopefully, you'll be able to do something decent with your hair for once.

Merry Christmas!

Lily Evans "

James rolled his eyes. It was quite typical for Evans to do something like that.

"Good to see she's well-read on her classics," Mr. Potter said. "And a comb. Quite witty…"

*~*~*~*~*

"Well?" Evelyn asked her expectantly. "What'd he get you?"

"Er… a paperweight," Lily said. "It has a fire with… snow falling over inside it."

"And the note?" Bella asked, on her tiptoes.

Lily read:

"_Evans:_

Here's a fire . No different from your personality, I'm sure. Then there's the cold ice. That's you, fire and ice.

Merry Christmas,

James Potter

P.S.

There's a framed picture of you and your "Darling" boyfriend, Lockhart."

"Wow, Lily, it's a _magical_ paper weight!" Evelyn breathed.

"How kind of him… to include a _lovely_ picture which I'm going to burn," Lily said, eyeing the picture of Gilderoy with his arm slung over her shoulder.

Taking a second look at the paperweight, she found it _was_ very nice, as the fire was burned to spell out the word, "Lily" in script, and the snow right over it added to the effect. Still, the way James had put it, she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be insulted or grateful. The picture… well, they were even; she'd given him a comb.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Okay, okay, so James' gift was a little cliché, but give me a break! At least it wasn't one of those necklaces everyone has him get her.

To Come: Stargazing.

__


	13. Gazebos and Stargazing

Chapter 13

(A/N) Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry it took so long; ff.net was down for a while, and no one could upload… Oh, and note to one of my reviewers: 

****

Bunnypear: this fic is **not** a continuation to **_Perfect Prefects… Or Not_**. It just shares a similar plot, but its plot will differ from **_Perfect Prefects_** eventually. As for Sirius… the point of this story is that by the end, everyone has changed a little, and has become more serious (no pun intended).

And, by the way, I _think_ Canada's major language French, so… If I'm wrong, please correct me. The telegram is how they _usually_ are, I think… anyway, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I own the plot. Augustus Rookwood belongs to J.K. (GoF)

*~*~*~*~*

Mr. Potter frowned.

"_… list of victims given by an anonymous tip. It could be a trap, the Ministry is at a draw between using the list and not. We urge you to return as soon as possible._"

The easy thing to do would be to wait and see who the next victim would be, but they wanted to make no sacrificial lambs in the Ministry's fight against Voldemort. So-

"Sir?"

Mr. Potter turned around to see- what was her name, Lavender, Lila, Lizzie- Lily. Lily Evans. 

"Yes, Miss Evans?"

Lily took a step forward. "There's a message for you."

"Is it an important one?" Mr. Potter asked impatiently. "Miss Evans, I realize you are a teenager, and perhaps your opinion of matters of importance may differ from mine, so I would like to explain to you that I am a busy man, and cannot be bothered by small trials or petty problems."

She frowned. "I think, sir, it would be more of sentimental importance."

"Is it about my son, Miss Evans?" he asked, folding his glasses. "I am handling important matters at the current moment, and I must say, if it concerns him, he'll have to wait."

"It's your wife, sir," Lily said.

"My wife?" Mr. Potter stared at her in disbelief. "Tell me, why is it that _you _are delivering me this message?"

"The Headmaster received a message, which was urgent, for you. A telegram, in muggle form. P- James wasn't around to deliver it, so Professor Dumbledore gave it to me," Lily explained.

"I trust you did not behave like a typical teenage and _read_ such private information?" Mr. Potter asked, taking the folded white paper from her.

"No, sir," Lily said. 

"Is that all, Miss Evans?"

"Yes, sir."

"Goodnight, Merry Christmas," Mr. Potter nodded.

He returned to his desk, and opened the telegram. It read:

"TO MR. POTTER STOP

WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU OF YOUR WIFE'S ILL CONDITION STOP IT MAY BE IN YOUR BEST INTERESTS TO COME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE STOP HER SITUATION APPEARS GRAVE STOP 

DR. HARRIS RICHARDSON".

*~*~*~*~*

Lily turned on her heel, walking into the Common Room, finding James, in a snogging session with some blonde- she couldn't tell _which_ blonde.

She was basically sitting in his lap, snogging _shamelessly_ in public. 

"Don't you have to come up for air, eventually?" she asked.

James jerked up, as did the blonde, appearing to be Narcissa White. "What d'you want, Evans?" he asked, plainly not appreciating her interruption.

Narcissa peered up at her. "Aren't you that annoying Gryffindor who always argues with James?"

"Aren't you that bratty Slytherin who always sticks her tongue in the mouth of every rich guy she can find?" Lily retaliated.

James scowled. "What d'you want, Evans?" he repeated.

"I want many things, Potter. I want fortune, I want fame, I want my own mansion, I want to be a millionaire, and, most of all," Lily paused, narrowing her eyes, "I want to know why you're snogging with a Slytherin, and, even more, why you're snogging with the infamous Narcissa White, Lucius Malfoy's supposed girlfriend."

James shrugged. "None of your business, Evans. Do you _mind_?"

Lily rolled her eyes and turned for the stairs. Once there, she paused and turned around. "And Miss White? Fifteen points from Slytherin for entering the Gryffindor Common Room without written permission, and a detention for not being in your own house after lights out."

James opened his mouth, but Lily continued, "And a detention to you, Potter, as, even first years are aware, it is not allowed to invite others not of the Gryffindor house into the Common Room after hours without granted permission from the professors."

With that, Lily continued her way up the stairs, having her Christmas brightened by far.

*~*~*~*~*

By the next day, Lily was disgusted to find, Narcissa was to be found once again in a lip-lock with Malfoy at the breakfast table.

"Christmas morning," Evelyn yawned. 

Lily took her seat primly, and nodded slightly. Her wavy auburn hair hung loosely at her shoulders as she brushed it into a half ponytail.

James, Sirius, and Remus appeared, dragging Peter with them, as they caught snatches of "he's not going to kill you", "he's always like that", "stop worrying", and "give it a rest; you're over-reacting."

James yanked Peter into a seat next to him, saying, "Snape _always_ makes up that junk."

"B-b-but he meant it! I'm sure of it!" Peter cried.

"Well, even if he _did_ mean it, you have _us_. We're your friends, remember?" Sirius asked, patting Peter's arm on the other side of him.

"Besides, he shouldn't be making threats. All you need to do is give word, Pete, and I can inform Dumbledore," James said.

"No!" Peter cried out. "Severus'll get even _more_ mad at me!"

Lily frowned. "What, may I ask, is going on?"

Sirius groaned, James sighed, and Remus drew a breath. "Snape, being the git that he is, threatened Peter about Voldemort, and how if he didn't join the Dark Side, he'd be the next on the list of targets," Remus explained.

"Do you _know_ how many rules that violates?" she asked. "If you turned Snape in, he could end up in _very_ much trouble.

James nodded. "She's right, Peter. As Head Boy, I could report him, if you want-"

"You don't have an _option_, Potter," Lily interrupted. "If you even _bothered_ to read the rule book McGonagall owled us, it clearly states that it is our duty to report any student who threatens, injures, or does anything else that is not consented to another student, no matter how harmless it seems."

James rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Evans. The point is, Peter, that we can report Snape."

"N-n-no, I'll be alright," Peter stammered, as Snape sent him a glare from across the Great Hall.

*~*~*~*~*

James walked into his father's room, seeing him packing.

Noticing his son in the doorway, Mr. Potter stood up. "I'm leaving this afternoon; they need me back at the Ministry."

James nodded. "How long?"

"In an hour," his father said. "Your mother… she's not doing too well. The muggle doctors can't do anything, either."

James nodded, and turned to leave.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily shivered in the cold, but stayed out anyway.

The snow crunched under her feet, as the sunshine cast her shadow upon it. Making her way to a small porch swing in the gazebo, she let out a long breath and watched as it evaporated in the air.

It was in a convenient spot, the gazebo. It was quite close to the lake, a cherry blossom tree next to it, though one couldn't tell the difference in the winter. The porch swing, like a bench, was in the middle of the gazebo, with a few chairs off to the sides. 

Sitting down on the swing, Lily started to do what she often found herself doing when her mind was too cluttered, sorting her thoughts out.

*~*~*~*~*

James kicked a small stone in his path, as he let out a slow breath, watching it evaporate.

Making his way to the gazebo, he noticed a figure on the swing.

It unnerved him, seeing someone in _his_ thinking spot, but then, it wasn't uncommon. After all, the gazebo had been erected only just three years ago, due to a petition started by the seventh years at the time, who wanted to do something with the empty lot of land near the lake which simply did not grow grass.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily heard the footsteps of someone else… a familiar, steady walk.

Without turning around, she murmured, "Potter. Didn't fancy seeing you out here."

"Isn't it a bit chilly for you to be out here?" James asked harshly, taking a seat next to her on the swing.

"No."

Her answer was followed by an unwelcome silence. Finally, James said, "What brings you out here, Evans?"

"I like to come here to think," Lily said. "And you?"

"An escape from reality," James replied.

"That depends on your idea of reality," Lily countered. "For me, this _is_ reality, and Hogwarts is a fantasy."

"The one thing not magically made," James said slowly.

"It's not _your_ kind of magic," she agreed, "But sometimes, the air is so refreshing, the sun sets right in front of here, the stars always seem brighter from here. I would say that it qualifies as some sort of magic."

"I suppose," James shrugged.

"What's your reality, then?" Lily asked softly. "And why are you escaping from it?"

"My dad," James said. "I have no normal life."

"Oh?" 

"You have no idea," he said. "No idea at all."

Lily was inclined to say something in response, but at his second statement, he appeared to be talking to himself, and she decided to leave him alone.

Thus, the two teenagers stared straight ahead, deep in thought.

*~*~*~*~*

"… and that's the Big Dipper, right there," James pointed. 

All the Marauders, Evelyn, Bella, and Lily were stargazing in the gazebo, doing some Astronomy homework they had been given prior to the holidays.

"My turn," Lily said, as James let her have her turn at the telescope. "There's the Big Dipper, I can see it. Over there, it's… _Aurora Borealis_, Northern Lights."

"What?" James stood. "Can't be, that's not possible."

"Wait, it's green light, moving… oh. Oh, my."

"What?" Remus asked.

Lily stepped back. "It's the Dark Mark."

*~*~*~*~*

James frowned. _The Dark Mark_?

The Dark Mark was the mark of a skull with a snake protruding out of its mouth, as a tongue. It was the mark of death, and whenever it was found above a person's house, it was known that someone had been attacked and killed. By now, it had grown quite common to see, as it seemed to be all over the papers.

Still, he didn't think that Voldemort would dare to attack so close to Hogwarts. Wasn't Albus Dumbledore the one person Voldemort was afraid of?

*~*~*~*~*

__

"… Voldemort struck again at a nearby Ministry member, Augustus Rookwood's house, killing a centaur found in the area, a dog and a cat were stunned. All three were branded with the Dark Mark. Strangely enough, the Ministry member appeared at work the next day, perfectly fine."

James frowned. "They are so blind sometimes…"

Evelyn plopped down next to him at the dinner table. "Who are so blind?" 

"Well, isn't it obvious?" James said. "The only way for the Rookwood to get out alive is-"

"If he was a Death Eater himself," Lily said, appearing next to them. 

"Right," James nodded. "I mean, the guy's in the Mysteries Department, probably passing on information. I overheard my dad telling someone over the phone that they were watching certain members of the Ministry closely, because they associated with suspected Death Eaters. There's more that I hear, but I would get in _so_ much trouble if I told you."

"Guilt by association," Lily chewed her lip thoughtfully. "That doesn't seem right, but Crouch is taking so many precautions now, and it seems to be working."

Evelyn shrugged. "So, are we still up for working on our Astronomy homework tonight?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," James shrugged.

"I'm in," Lily nodded.

*~*~*~*~*

"Ursa Major," Sirius said, pointing at the constellation. "Bear."

Lily sighed. "Sirius, that's Ursa _Minor_," she said, recording something in her notebook.

"No, it's Ursa Major," Sirius said, frowning.

"Minor."

"Major."

"Minor."

"Major."

"_Minor_."

"_Major_."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Stop it, both of you," she said. "My turn."

This began an uneventful night of taking turns at pointing out different constellations, planets, and stars.

*~*~*~*~*

Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily as he read the school year's agenda.

The Head students seemed to be taking on twice as much as they had been doing the previous years. Still, he was quite sure that they would be able to handle it. 

And yet…

Was it _right_ to burden them with so many projects? Surely they would be pushed past their limits by one of these projects? Of course, the Ministry was right in wanting to teach these students what they were _truly_ up against, but were they going into the extreme, slightly? 

Dumbledore looked out the big picture window, where the Gryffindors were stargazing. It was, indeed, a pleasant break from seeing James Potter and Lily Evans shouting obscenities at each other, but… 

How long would it last? 

If the Ministry's idea worked, not for long.

Sighing, Dumbledore pressed a red button, and said, "Will the two Head Students please report to my office at this time? Password's Treacle Fudge."

And so it began.

*~*~*~*~*

"If this is about last week's prank, I'm telling him you provoked me," James said.

"_Me_?" Lily frowned. "That was _all_ your idea. I was just innocently sleeping, when there was a entire tidal wave splashed on me."

"You were asleep. That's a reason," James said. "All I have to say is that it was an accident."

"Brat."

"Priss."

"Idiot."

"Snob,"

"Git."

"Carrot-top."

Lily rolled her eyes, reminded suddenly of first year, when he had transfigured the top of her head into a, well, carrot-top. "Pig snout."

James laughed, remembering the time she had transfigured his nose into a pig snout in first year… The Head students had thought it to be funny to use it as a password every year. "Treacle Fudge."

The two stone gargoyles blocking the way to the Headmaster's office suddenly sprang apart, granting them entrance.

*~*~*~*~*

Dumbledore turned to face James and Lily.

"Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, I wish to inform you that we will be receiving four exchange students from the United States and Canada within three days," he said. "It is _your_ duty to make them feel as home as possible. However, after three days of _their_ stay, we will be shipping the two of _you_ off to their school, in America, for a month and a half, about seven and a half weeks."

Lily frowned. "But-"

"Let me finish, Miss Evans. During your stay, you will not be allowed contact with anyone at Hogwarts through owl or otherwise. Nor may you keep in correspondence with anyone you know already, aside from yourselves. The objective of this is to allow you to adapt to a change of scenery, without your closest friends."

"But sir, there's a quidditch match coming up, and the postponed game against the Slytherins-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop James. "Yes, you _will_ miss that. We have the alternates in your place. Any other questions?"

Lily bit her lip. "I get to bring my owl, right?"

"Miss Evans, you are not allowed to keep in correspondence-"

"For company only, sir," she said quickly. "Besides, Hera has a strict diet, and I really need to keep her with me."

Dumbledore nodded. "You, James? Have you any pet that you feel you must bring?"

"My owl, only, sir."

"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "We have sent a letter to both your parents. Before you leave for the airport, you will both be allowed to stop by your parents' house, upon their requests."

James' eyes darkened slightly.

*~*~*~*~*

Sure enough, within three days, the four different exchange students arrived, two from each school.

Two boys, and two girls.

"Students, it gives me great pleasure to announce our four exchange students, Leslie McKinnion and Jonathan Steel from the Salem School of Magic of America, and Michelle JeDoire and Michael DeVivre from the Canadien École de Magie of Canada," Dumbledore smiled at the four students. 

"That Michael kid looks like a Slytherin," Evelyn whispered to Lily as she applauded.

"They have already been sorted. Miss McKinnion, to Gryffindor, Mr. Steel to Ravenclaw, Miss JeDoire to Ravenclaw, and Mr. DeVivre to Slytherin. Please move onto your breakfast table at this time," the Headmaster said.

The girl introduced as "Leslie McKinnion" walked over and took a seat next to Lily and James, obviously nervous.

"Hi… I'm looking for the Head Students?" she asked.

"That's us," James nodded.

"Um, I need to get my schedule from you."

Lily smiled, and gave her the sheet of paper.

As if the ice had been broken through this gesture, Leslie perked up immediately. "So, do you _really_ have tea every day?"

"Well-"

"Oh! I _love _your accent!"

James raised an eyebrow. "What accent? You're the one with the accent."

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Yay! That was a long chapter!!!!!!!!!!!!! Review, PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sorry if I had any typos, or anything…

To Come: Meet the parents. 


	14. Leslie and Leslie

Chapter 14

(A/N) Thanks for all the reviews! Oh, and thanks to **kelton** for reminding me about Quebec and Canada. I meant Quebec (in Canada). Oh, and I apologize for any typos in advance… for some reason, the indents aren't showing up.

****

Disclaimer: I own the plot. 

*~*~*~*~*

For the next few days, Leslie showed up almost everywhere Lily and James went, with a bubble of enthusiasm.

For one, she appeared _fascinated_ with the English customs, and observed their ways of speech whenever they held a conversation. She often would find any person willing to explain to her the rules of quidditch, saying it "wasn't that popular back home".

That appeared to be her explanation for everything. "Back home in the US," "Back home, we didn't do that", "Wait'll my friends back home hear", or "Well, we didn't have that back home". 

Leslie never tired of imitating their speech, proving herself quite good at it, and entertained them in the Common Room by blending all their accents together, Irish, English, American, French, Cockney, and then changed smoothly from one to another in a sentence. In fact, she even managed to do a decent imitation of Hagrid's speech.

Though some found her slightly annoying, she was an endless source of perky, happy energy, and they couldn't help but feel happy along with her. Sharing a room with Evelyn, Bella, and Lily, the girls took her in, and the Marauders treated her as an "honorary Marauder".

Needless to say, the Gryffindors were quite happy with the new addition (though some grumbled she should have been in Hufflepuff) to their House. 

*~*~*~*~*

"Want me to help you pack, Lily?" Leslie asked. "I can help you pick out the popular fashions back home!"

"Erm… alright," Lily nodded at her trunk. "So, what's it like in the United States, anyway?"

"Well," Leslie said, frowning at a skirt of Lily's, "We have a president, Jimmy Carter. We don't say 'er', we say 'uh', we don't wear skirts, we wear jeans, we don't have headmasters, we have principles, and we _don't_ cross our legs like that all the time."

Lily frowned. "Er…"

"Your legs," Leslie explained. "You always cross them, all lady-like and proper. We don't do that very much. Feminist thing."

"Er…"

"Never mind, never mind," she shook her head. "You'll see once you get there. What time are you leaving?"

Lily checked her watch. "In… an hour and a half."

"Good, that gives us plenty of time to choose an outfit for you to wear once you get there," Leslie nodded.

Lily glanced at her outfit. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

Leslie's eyes swept over her, from head to foot. "Well, you're so… _classic_. Black and white, Lily, who _wears_ black and white?"

"Me?" Lily asked uncertainly.

"Not anymore," Leslie shook her head. "Be colorful! Self-expression through _colors_! Colors, colors, colors!"

Lily laughed as she watched Leslie prance around the room, waving a colorful scarf. 

Stopping, Leslie held up a tie-dyed T-shirt, and said, "Why don't you have anything tie-dyed in your wardrobe? It's all so… so… solid and… and… plaid!"

Lily laughed again.

"And your hair!" Leslie continued. "Let's curl it!"

*~*~*~*~*

In the end, Lily and Leslie had come to a compromise in their fashion senses.

Well, not really.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Leslie, this isn't going to help, I look the same as I always do."

"But with better hair and a colorful scrunchy!"

Lily frowned, and replaced the scrunchy with her usual cream colored one, and attempted to brush out her hair one last time.

"Lily!" Leslie complained. "Now you look the same as you _always_ do!"

"Good," she said, smoothing her wavy hair.

*~*~*~*~*

"What took you?" James asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Leslie decided to give me a last-minute make-over which I took off anyway," she said. "Why, did you miss me?"

"No," he replied moving away from the door as they walked towards the Knight Bus, where Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore were waiting for them

Professor McGonagall pressed the tickets into their hands. "You _did_ exchange some of that into American money, right?"

James held up four twenty-dollar bills.

"And your passports?"

Lily showed her the two passports.

"Plane tickets?"

Dumbledore handed them the tickets.

McGonagall breathed a visible sigh of relief. "Good. You're ready, then. Now, here are the booklets with the rules," she said, handing them both a large packet of papers magically bound together. "Look them over on your way there."

"We will," Lily promised.

"Have a… how do you teenagers call it, _cool_ time," Dumbledore winked.

Lily laughed, as did James. "Very cool sir," James said.

"Yes, well…" the Headmaster crinkled his nose, "It sounds _much_ better when Mr. Black says it… and it gets more ladies, as well."

"Albus!" McGonagall scolded.

"Kidding, Minerva!" Dumbledore smiled at the two. "Have a jolly good time, then!"

"We will," Lily nodded.

*~*~*~*~*

"… No correspondence with anyone you know from your own school, aside from the other than the other student," James finished.

"That was…"

"Boring," James finished for her. "Stan, how much longer?"

"Usually, it don' take this much time," the young man said. "But, considern' it's a _muggle_ area, it may be 'nother minute o' so."

"So it's an hour and a half at each of our houses?" Lily asked, as her house suddenly came into view.

"Right," James nodded. 

*~*~*~*~*

Walking up the pathway, James stopped suddenly.

"What?" Lily frowned.

"Your family… they aren't, by any chance, like _you_, are they?" he asked.

"What, perfect?"

"No, annoying and stuck-up," James replied.

Lily rolled her eyes as she rang the doorbell and turned to face him. "Just my sister, Petunia. I warn you, she's-"

The door swung open to reveal a blonde, blue-eyed, girl, sneering, giving her a most horse-like appearance.

"Oh," she said. "It's _you_."

"Petunia," Lily smiled, walking in, followed by James. "Where's mum and dad?"

Before her sister could reply, a blonde haired woman suddenly appeared, with a tall man. Obviously, James noticed, Lily had gotten her eyes from her mother and hair from her father. 

"Lily!" her parents hugged her. 

Mrs. Evans raised an eyebrow at James. "And you are…?" 

"James Potter, ma'am. I'm the Head Boy, with Ev- Lily," he answered.

"I see," Mr. Evans nodded. "You're from a magical family?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Evans nodded again. "Well, come on into our living room."

*~*~*~*~*

Mrs. Evans had taken to James almost immediately.

"He's _very_ polite," she had whispered to Lily. 

At hearing this, she had laughed out loud, earning herself a strange look from Petunia's boyfriend, Vernon.

Mr. Evans, also, found him good company. He would, in an excited voice, explain to James how a television worked, as James explained to him how it was like to live in a magical world.

"So, do you get along well with Lily?" Mrs. Evans had asked, winking.

Overhearing this, Lily smothered a laugh as James fought to keep a straight face. 

"Get- along-well- with _her_?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

"It's impossible, mum," Lily explained, "He's an insufferable idiot."

James opened his mouth to retort, but stopped, thinking that it may be rude to call Lily an "annoying know-it-all" in front of her parents.

"He seems nice enough to _me_," Mrs. Evans said, passing him a tray of brownies.

Nearby, Vernon Dursley grunted, noticing that _he_ hadn't received such a welcome when he had first met Petunia's parents.

James frowned, seeing Petunia and Vernon glaring at him. "Er, Evans, what's with them?"

Lily glanced up. "Oh, that's just my sister and her boyfriend," she said. "They don't like you."

*~*~*~*~*

By the time they left Lily's house, it was a quarter past eight, and quite dark out.

"Nice parents, wonder how they had a daughter like you," James commented.

"Funny, Potter," she said sarcastically.

"I have an idea," he sat up suddenly. "Let's skip my house, and go directly to the airport!"

"Why?" Lily asked, brushing out her hair.

"You want to get there as soon as possible, right?" 

"We'll be two hours early," she said.

"Yeah, but you've already met my father," James said.

Lily rolled her eyes, placing her brush away and stared out the window, as large trees appeared to "jump" out of the way of the bus.

"'Ere we are, eh?" Stan called from the driver's seat. A large "BANG" sounded as the Knight Bus skidded to a stop in front of-

"_A mansion_? You live in a _mansion_?" Lily asked incredulously.

James shrugged. "Welcome to the Potter Residence."

*~*~*~*~*

The large doors of James' house opened, and a man in a butler's uniform appeared.

"Mister Potter, welcome home," he said. "Your parents have retired to the drawing room for the evening. They are waiting for you."

"Right," James nodded. 

"May I take your coat?"

Without waiting for an answer, he took Lily's coat along with James' and disappeared.

"The drawing room's this way," James muttered, leading the way.

"Nice house," she murmured. "I can actually see why those Hufflepuffs would like you for a husband, for once."

James shrugged, and continued to walk past rooms until he reached a large room, with an oriental carpet in the middle, several plants around it, and, of course, his parents inside.

"James," Mr. Potter nodded. 

"Welcome home, dear," his mother smiled.

It appeared to Lily that Mrs. Potter showed no resemblance to her son. The woman had pale blonde hair, blue eyes, and a thin smile. She was wearing a silk apricot colored dress, a necklace of pearls around her neck, and her hair pinned in place with a mother-of-pearl comb. There was a fragile air around her; Lily had the feeling that she would break almost any second.

Mrs. Potter appeared more of a decorative piece in the surroundings.

"Mother, this is Lily Evans, the Head Girl at our school," James introduced. 

"How do you do, Lily?"

"Um, fine, thank you," she said.

"And you've already met my father," James nodded in the direction of James Potter Senior, who was watching her closely.

"Yes, I have," Lily gave the man a small smile, though it wasn't returned.

"James, your mother hasn't been feeling well, so she won't be joining us this evening, until dinner" Mr. Potter said. "The doctor will be here shortly, and I haven't the time to spend it with you. The house-elves will cook dinner for you, and tell them to bring your mother the medicine."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Do not disturb me, do not make noise, and do _not_ come to the third floor."

"Yes, sir."

"Your mother and I will join you for dinner when the time comes."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Potter stood, helped his wife up, who, indeed, appeared to be ready to break into pieces at any moment.

Stepping back, James watched as his mother and father walked out of the room, then turned to Lily.

"Those are my parents," he said simply.

"Oh. They're very… very…"

"Save it, Evans," James snapped. "_I_ don't care."

"Master Potter!" something tugged at his leg. It was a small, skinny little thing, with round eyes and long, bat-like ears. It was wearing a dishtowel wrapped around like a skirt and another towel with holes for its arms as a shirt. 

Lily stared. "Er…"

"Master Potter! Dinner is served now!" it squeaked.

James sighed. "Evans, this is Tilly, one of our house-elves."

"Hello, Tilly," she greeted politely.

"Miss!" it squeaked. "Will miss be dining with Master Potter this evening? Tilly cook something extra special for you!"

Lily shrugged. "I…"

"That'll be all, Tilly," James said.

The small house-elf curtsied and disappeared with a crack.

*~*~*~*~*

The dining room was just as grand as almost every other room. There was a long table with a white tablecloth spread over it.

A candle had been placed in the center of the table, and a large window on each side of the room, with large, maroon drapes, pulled so a small portion of the outside could be seen. 

An orange tabby kitten had perched itself on the window ledge, and a white cat had jumped onto the table.

"The orange one's name is Honey," James said, following her gaze. "And the white one is Sugar."

"Oh. Does Sugar dine at the table?" Lily asked.

"My mother's cat," he said. "Sugar goes almost everywhere with her, except at dinner."

Lily smiled slightly. "Who came up with their names?" she asked, petting Sugar.

"One of my father's colleague's daughters," he said, shrugging. "Sugar was a kitten at the time, and I was five, so…"

"And Honey?"

"Honey is one of the kittens that Snowbell gave birth to."

Lily frowned. "And Snowbell is…?"

"The cat my aunt bought me when I got into Hogwarts," James said. "She's here, but she likes to eat with the House-elves, because she gets more food."

"So, when are your parents coming down?" Lily asked, tilting her head to see the clock. "It's half past eight already."

"They'll be down," James said. "Of course, they'll interrogate you _politely_, then they'll annoy you with tidbits about themselves _politely_, then they'll watch you through the entire dinner to see how you act, _politely_, of course, then they'll ask you about school _politely_, then they'll tell you to leave briefly as they must talk to _me_ about you. Politely."

"Nice, polite, family," Lily nodded. 

James shrugged. 

"How'd they get a son like _you_?"

"I'm a disappointment to my father, that's for sure," James nodded in agreement. "I blame it on Sirius."

"I see," Lily smiled. "He doesn't seem like the type to befriend stuffy, formal idiots."

"What's that supposed to mean?" James asked.

"You're an idiot, but a bearable idiot."

"Unlike my father, you mean," he said. "Who is a _rich_ idiot."

"I see."

*~*~*~*~*

"So, Lily, as I haven't had the pleasure of acquainting myself with you, tell me about yourself," Mrs. Potter said.

"What would you like to know?" 

"Well, how are you doing in school?"

"I think I'm doing pretty well," she answered. "Except for Transfiguration, which I really need to work on."

"Oh," Mrs. Potter smiled. "And do you study very much?"

"Yes, I do."

"That's good," she smiled. "And your parents?"

"They're muggles," James said quickly.

Mr. Potter frowned. "James."

"Sorry, sir."

He turned his attention to Lily. "What do you intend to do once you are out of Hogwarts?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet," she shrugged. "My mother wants me to get into a muggle college after, so I'm studying some muggle subjects so I can at least try to."

Mr. Potter nodded. "Hogwarts has a few programs where you can do that," he said, cutting up his steak. "But why not go to another magical college?"

"Well, sir, I think that I might need a muggle education more, as, well, it's important if I need to get a job."

"A job in the muggle world?" Mr. Potter frowned.

Lily took a sip of water. "Maybe. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, considering you have a magical education-"

"That's why I'm getting a muggle education at the same time, sir," Lily said.

James raised an eyebrow. His father had _let_ her interrupt him?

"Hmm. And what sort of muggle job are you pursuing?"

"Well, I was hoping to be a journalist, maybe. Or, perhaps, a doctor."

"Medicinal practice?" Mr. Potter frowned. "Why not a magical doctor? Would it not be easier with magical cures?"

"I'm looking for a challenge, sir," Lily said. "Muggles don't have such an easy time with cures and treatments. If I were to become a muggle doctor, perhaps I could improve the methods."

"What makes you think that you could do that?"

Lily frowned. "What makes you think that I _couldn't_?"

Mr. Potter sighed. "Miss Evans, don't accuse me of things I didn't say."

"So then do you think that I could?" she asked.

James concealed a smile. Lily must have been the first girl his father had ever been challenged by. All the others…

"You must admit, Lily, the idea seems a bit farfetched," Mr. Potter said.

"My goals are high," Lily agreed. "But so are my standards."

"And who sets those standards?"

"They're my own, sir," she said.

"And if they don't match the standards you are required to match?" Mr. Potter asked.

"Then I'll change my standards," Lily answered.

Mrs. Potter put down her glass of water. "Your parents must be very proud of you, Lily."

"I hope they are," she said. "Why would you think they are?"

"Well, you have a polished surface, obviously good breeding, academically accomplished, and underneath the surface, you appear to be able to speak your own mind. Congratulations, you may be the first girl my son has brought home that meets both his and our standards."

Lily smiled slightly. "Excuse me?"

"Of course, now we have the added feat of making him see beyond the tip of his nose and appreciate that," Mrs. Potter said.

Mr. Potter chuckled, and Mrs. Potter smiled. James frowned. 

"Dad, please, _don't_."

Mr. Potter turned his attention to his son. "James…"

"Sorry, sir."

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) What'd you think? I realize I may make James' parents a little… whatever, and Mr. Potter doesn't seem too popular, but they get better. And Mrs. Potter _is_ ill, but well enough to eat dinner with them, sorry if there were any misunderstandings there. Not my best chapter, but still, I hope it's good enough. Review!

To Come: America!


	15. Destination before Journey

Chapter 15

(A/N) Thanks for all the reviews! **And, special thanks to everyone who waited long enough for this chapter to come out!!!!!** I wrote this chapter the day I got out of school! So, this is dedicated to everyone on summer break, my friends at my school, KMS, especially.

****

I am so, so, sooo sorry I didn't update this sooner! We just moved, and I couldn't get back on the internet for a month!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

"I'm supposed to escort you outside," James muttered. 

Lily took her coat off the coat rack, and followed him out the door. "I think that went over quite well."

"Yes, wonderful," he said sarcastically.

"No need to be snide," she said, as they trudged through the snow over to the side of the road.

"Well, they _did_ like you," James said.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really? Your father-"

"He interrogates everybody that I bring home," James shrugged. "It's sort of like a test. Especially if it's a _girl_ I bring home."

"A test of what, exactly?" Lily frowned.

"A test of your intelligence, your manners, just about everything," James shrugged.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, as they stood on the curb. "He just does that."

Lily held out her wand hand, the way to call for the Knight Bus. "Hmm. It's taking them a while."

James leaned against a large tree trunk. "You have the plane tickets, right?"

"Yep," Lily nodded. "First class seating."

"You think it's going to be fun?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. We won't be able to write to anyone, and, well… I'm sure it'll be fun if they're anything like Leslie over there."

James laughed. "Leslie is…"

"Crazy," Lily finished for him. "I wonder if all Americans are like her."

"If they are…" James laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just… My dad would probably have a case if he ever met Leslie," he said.

Lily smiled. "I'm sure. Imagine her answers. 'Oh, back home, we never did that! That is so, totally, cool!'"

"He'd lose three weeks worth of sleep," James agreed.

"He'd lose _four_ weeks if he knew that you played pranks non-stop at school," she said.

There was a loud bang, and the Knight Bus appeared, Stan stepping out. "You youngsters ready to go?"

*~*~*~*~*

"The flight is to be delayed for half an hour because of the snow," Lily announced, reading the screen.

James nodded. "This is a muggle airport?"

"Of course it is," Lily frowned.

"So what do muggles do when their flights are delayed?"

"Why, wizards don't have delayed flights?"

"We apparate."

Lily sighed. 

*~*~*~*~*

"Boarding all first class passengers at this time," a voice announced.

"Ready?" James asked.

Looking up from her book, Lily nodded and grabbed her bag. "Let's go."

*~*~*~*~*

James looked out the window as the plane lifted off.

"It's still snowing," he commented.

"Potter, it's nearly ten thirty!"

"What, jetlagged already?" James asked. "We've barely taken off."

"Funny, Potter," she said. Looking out the window, she commented, "It's still snowing."

James grinned. "You weren't listening to me, were you?"

*~*~*~*~*

James jerked awake in the middle of the night, from some nightmare.

"That was creepy," he murmured to himself. It had involved Voldemort, a rat, green light, and a baby. About all that he could remember.

"Get a night light, Potter," Lily mumbled next to him sleepily, before drifting back to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*

At the baggage claim, Lily preformed a quick charm to shorten the process, as their bags suddenly appeared.

"So how do we get there?" she asked.

James frowned. "Well, McGonagall said to look for a man with a board with our names on it…"

Lily scanned the crowd. Off to the side, there was a chauffeur holding up a sign that read: "Lily Evans & James Potter".

"Over there," she pointed.

Picking up their bags, they walked over to the man.

"Miss Evans and Mr. Potter?" he inquired.

"That's us," James nodded.

"I have instructions to drive you over to the Salem School of Magic," he said, walking them outside over to a long, black limousine.

*~*~*~*~*

The Salem School of Magic turned out to be in Boston, Massachusetts.

The school hardly resembled Hogwarts in any manner. Lily's owl, Hera, seemed disturbed by the difference. It must have been half the size of Hogwarts, but it was still large. It had large white pillars in the front, with a few steps beneath them. It was a red brick, and had large, mahogany doors, with the inscription, "_E Pluribus Unum_" carved on it, then an eagle with an olive branch in one hand, and arrows in the other. 

Above them, there was a large bell, similar to one seen at a church. The area was surrounded by acres of snow-covered lawns, and bordered by large trees, and a small archway made from the branches (magically put in that position, undoubtedly) followed by a sidewalk that lead to the steps before the school, serving as an entranceway.

Walking under the arch and up the steps, they pressed a button, which served as an intercom, as they heard a voice saying, "Who is it?"

"Lily Evans and James Potter, the exchange students," James said into their end of the intercom device.

There was a small clicking noise, and the gigantic doors suddenly opened, admitting them inside.

Once they stepped inside, the doors swung shut, and they turned to face a large room, similar to that of the Grand Hall in Hogwarts. Many students were staring at them with polite curiosity, and others looked away disinterestedly.

A stout, old, little witch walked over, wearing a brown robe and a black pointed hat, her brown hair streaked with gray and pinned into a bun. She reminded Lily a little of Professor McGonagall.

"Hello," she greeted. "I am the Vice Principle of the school, you may call me Vice Principle Landers. There will be a sorting into our four houses, once the other two exchange students arrive, from Beauxbatons, in France."

As if on cue, two students suddenly walked in, a boy and a girl, speaking quickly in French with each other.

The blue-eyes, blonde haired, girl approached Landers, and said, in a thick accent, "Is zis ze American school of magic?"

"Yes, Yes. I am your Vice Principle Landers, please, follow me, follow me. It's time to sort you," the woman said.

*~*~*~*~*

As they were soon to find out, the sorting was similar to the Hogwarts ways.

There were four houses, all named after animals. The Eagles, the Panthers, the Owls, and the Lions. The Eagles appeared to favor quick thinkers, the Panthers seemed to be an American version of Slytherins, sly and stealthy, the Owls academically excelled, the Lions, leaders, not followers.

Both Lily and James were sorted into the Lions.

*~*~*~*~*

Within fifteen minutes of his stay, James had managed to attract the attention of nearly every girl in the school.

Lily, on the other hand, appeared to be fading into her surroundings, barely noticed, aside from the girls in her dorm room.

*~*~*~*~*

Her introduction had been interesting enough.

"So you're the transfer student from England?" one girl, who introduced herself as "Amanda" asked.

"Yes, Lily Evans, pleased to meet you," she briefly shook the hand Amanda extended.

"You talk funny," a blonde girl said across the room. 

Amanda rolled her eyes. "That's Christina. We call her Christie. She's very blunt."

"Hello, Christina," Lily greeted the girl, who was lying on the top bed of a bunk bed.

"Good night," the girl replied, turning over to her side.

Sighing, Lily walked over to a bed near the window and began to unpack.

*~*~*~*~*

__

"Hi, Sirius! We're having a good time over here. Well, by that I mean my owl and I. Evans seems to be in a sour mood. Perhaps we should recreate the atmosphere in Hogwarts to be like it is here. Torture for her, it would be-"

James crumpled the parchment and threw it out in a nearby trash can. It sounded too… Too… Too stupid. Of course, it didn't matter, as he wouldn't be seeing or keeping in touch with Sirius anyway, but he was still a perfectionist.

Two and a half weeks had past since their arrival at the school, and he had become more popular than ever. Lily, on the other hand, seemed to be reliving first year, the year when she was unpopular and unknown.

However, she was _very_ well known at the school. James had noticed that everyone knew Lily at the school, but found her extremely dislikable. He didn't know _why_, but it disturbed him, in a way, thinking that he was more popular than she was.

The rivalry didn't seem to be there in class, she would just sit and take notes, occasionally chew the bottom of her lip in thought. Perhaps it was the fact that the competition wasn't as widely known. James Potter wasn't sure _why_, but with her unpopularity, it no longer seemed necessary to compete with her.

He could see that she wasn't very social, nor did she talk to the other students. He was pretty sure she didn't even have friends. Th girls in her dorm would often talk of her behind her back.

Sure, James didn't _like_ her, but he never liked it when people talked about others in a demeaning manner when the person wasn't there to defend themselves. Unless, of course, it was him that was talking.

"James, it's time for dinner," a boy with dark brown hair said, popping his head in the door.

"Right, I'll be there, Tom," he nodded. 

Getting up, James shook away any second thought of Lily Evans and left for dinner.

*~*~*~*~*

"_January 23rd, 1978_," Lily wrote.

"_Voldemort, affects students here at Salem, as well as in England. I never thought he was so powerful. This morning, Christie's parents were killed by some crazed Death Eater. Apparently, Voldemort sends his Death Eaters around the globe, spreading the word of a dark wizard ready to corrupt the world. Of course, it sounds like something out of a fairy-tale, after all, you'd think the muggle governments would have heard about such things. Still, I can't believe that the whole Voldemort ordeal could be solved by just killing him, as some other students seem to think. Sure, he's the source, but the power resides in his Death Eaters, also. They debate on the matter constantly, and I'm beginning to tire of it. Can't they talk of anything else? If it's not Voldemort, it's the latest fashion, scandal, or fad. Of course, I never join in on their discussions. It does me better; I can listen to them, and gather more information. I'm perfectly well aware of what they say behind my back. They refer to me as 'haughty', and 'stuck-up'. Perhaps I'm just a social recluse here. It doesn't matter, I'm not here to win their approval. Still, if I **do** join in on the conversations, everyone either ignores me, or dismisses off my idea as just silly. Sometimes I wish I had a friend, but there's no one here that's a **good** friend. They talk about each other behind their backs, they taunt and tease, they act horribly to their 'friends'. I have no wish to associate myself with people who do so to their so-called friends. My roommates, Amanda and Christie, are really no help to the matter. They're quite hostile at times, and really don't appear to **want** to be my friends. Potter, however, seems to be adjusting around here quite nicely. As usual, the girls are practically swarming around him, possibly even more because of his 'accent'. He's not stupid, I can tell you that, diary. At least there's one other person who sees past these phony facades everyone carries around. But though he knows, he still seems to enjoy their company. Why, I don't understand. I have always respected Potter for at least having good judgement (Ha! If Evelyn could read this now!), but I'm starting to reconsider. Dinner time._

Yours truly,

Lily Evans."

Locking up her diary and putting it in a secret compartment she had found in the antique desk (by jiggling the handle of the second drawer, a small compartment that served as a false bottom of the drawer sprang open), Lily stood up and walked out to dinner.

*~*~*~*~*

James studied the bulletin board, on which dozens of flyers were tacked upon. 

Mostly, nonsense things, school announcements, advertisements, just trivial things like that. For some reason, he couldn't wait for the whole trip to be over. Seven weeks; that was about two months! And no contact with anyone else aside from Evans?

Well, he had discovered she wasn't such bad company when one wished to talk about things aside from politics, magic, or the latest trends or fads.

Actually, he had discovered many things about Lily Evans that he hadn't known before. 

The hall was nearly emptied, Behind him, someone's footsteps sounded.

A familiar step, light and soft, quick, yet not rushed step.

"Evans."

The steps didn't change their pace, and when he turned around, Lily was there.

She met his gaze. "Potter."

"Yes?" 

"I was acknowledging you," she said, looking away. "Not addressing you."

James nodded, and watched as she walked away.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi, Lily," Amanda greeted, not bothering to look up from her magazine.

Lily walked over to her desk and pulled out her diary. 

__

"January 24th, 1978," she wrote.

__

"I am disgusted with James Potter. I am disgusted with Dumbledore. I am disgusted with the professors. I am disgusted with the students. Quite frankly, I am disgusted with everything about this school. Why? Potter acts totally and completely like the American stereotype of us around the girls, and though highly exaggerated and sarcastic as his newfound ability to be a personality chameleon is, I don't think they notice. And Dumbledore, why did he send us here? The average intellect level in my Charms class is below sea level! Weren't we supposed to learn things here? So perhaps I'm not adapting too well. Maybe my social skills need to be improved. But honestly! Is that **all** I'm supposed to learn here? The professors here are no help, either. They drone on about the work for an hour, then assign work. I don't blame it all on the professors, after all, the students share the blame, but can't they at least put in a little interest in the subjects they teach? The students… well, it's quite obvious why I'm disgusted with them, after my last entry. But most of all, I am disgusted with myself. Back home, I'm well rounded, outgoing enough, and likable by most. Am I really so pathetic to just let myself disappear and take up a new version of myself? All one has to do around here to seem "well rounded" is to play baseball well, have the ability to aim a spitball correctly, and read a book from cover-to-cover out loud, without sounding monotonous. 

Lily Evans."

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) That was pretty good. Hopefully, my portrayal of Americans doesn't offend anyone (I am one myself, after all.). Don't mind Lily, she's just in a foul mood. Very pessimistic in this chapter. I didn't mean for her to turn out that way.

Kudos to anyone who figures out the meaning of the chapter title.

To Come: I realize everyone's going to scream _CLICHÉ _at me, but… tragic news for Miss Evans.


	16. Incoherency, Lunacy, and Primitive Emoti...

Chapter 16

(A/N) Thanks for all the reviews! And to **Lilyengraved:** Yeah, the whole, "going-to-America" thing is getting old. I, unlike all those other people, though, am not using it _as_ my plot. I'm using it _for_ my plot. There's a reason for them going to America. 

****

And to the rest of you guys: Thank you!!!!!!!!!! Such flattery! Thanks for being so patient. And, um, don't expect too much L/J fluff for another few chapters, as I can't have them saying "I hate you" one day, and "Marry me" the next. But we're getting somewhere; as you might be able to tell, James' feelings are starting to alter ever so slightly. Slightly. Very, very, _very_ slightly. 

Disclaimer: Hmph. I own the plot and nothing more.

*~*~*~*~*

Sirius Black glanced at the mail on his plate.

Junk mail, junk mail, _Daily Prophet_, letter from his mum, junk mail, junk mail, and… junk mail. Scanning the letter from his mum, he gathered that his little sister had fallen ill again. Hmm. Nothing out of the norm. 

Sighing, he picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and read the headlines. Another muggle attack. 

"No news is good news," he said under his breath. That had to be the sixth muggle attack this week. 

*~*~*~*~*

"Evans."

Looking up, Lily saw the familiar figure of James Potter. Backing away from the dusty old bookshelf of the even dustier library, she brushed off the dust on her hands and straightened.

"Potter," she nodded. "What brings you to the library? Hardly ever seen you in such a place."

"That's because I don't _need_ to study to keep my grades up."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Right. Did you finish your Charms homework yet? Extra load," she said sarcastically. 

"Yep. I just wrote the same thing I wrote when Professor Flitwick gave us the same assignment in third year," he nodded walking towards her. "So, pray do tell, why are you in the Defence Against Dark Arts Section?"

"I'm trying to find the oldest record of Dark Wizards," she murmured. "Apparently, they have a collection of diaries kept by Dark wizards over the years."

"Ugh," James frowned. "Who would want to collect that?"

"It would help those in the Ministry. Get into the mind of the criminal," she said, her eyes scanning the spines of books. 

"You sound like something out of a murder mystery."

"There's no mystery about Voldemort."

*~*~*~*~*

Professor Albus Dumbledore peered over his glasses at the quidditch pitch, where the Ravenclaws versus Slytherin match was taking place.

Glancing back at the wall of quidditch trophies on his wall, his mind instantly jumped to James Potter. According to the reports sent in by the principle of the school in America, their Head Boy had been doing quite well. Lily, however…

He did feel sorry for that girl. The principle had written that she wasn't adjusting too well, though her academics were by far exceeding the standards set by the professors. She was, apparently, rejected by her peers for the same reasons she was accepted by her teachers.

Well, she would adjust. She _had_ to adjust.

*~*~*~*~*

James grinned at a passing girl, who all but swooned right then and there.

"Hey, James, what's up?"

"The sky," he replied. 

The boy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Potter. See you at dinner."

For a second, he sensed someone was watching him, but shook it off. Girls always watched him.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi."

Lily didn't look up. Probably some other kid talking to some other kid, as usual.

"Hello, are you deaf? I said hi."

She still didn't look up. They probably were addressing someone else.

"Okay, not much of a talker, are you?"

Finally, she looked up. A boy, about her height, with sandy brown hair and brown eyes was staring at her.

"May I help you?"

"You're one of the exchange students, aren't you?" he asked, shifting his bookbag to another shoulder. "I'm Peter Grismire." 

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" she frowned. "Lily Evans, by the way."

"I know. You're in my Math class. Muggle math, I mean," he nodded. 

Lily stared. "And…?"

"So, what do you think of Professor Minten?" 

"I think he's unfit to be a teacher, gives out easy work, and is an incompetent human being in general."

"Cynical one, aren't you?"

"Quite right," she smiled sarcastically. "What do you think of him?"

"The same. My parents made me take the class only because it's standard for most students. I tutor, really; I'm ahead of practically everyone in the class," he shrugged. "Mr. Minten isn't the best teacher we've every had, but he's better than some."

"Why are you talking to me?"

Peter grinned. "Fair enough. I noticed you in class. There's a saying that out of every group of people, there's always one worth meeting. If I'm not that one, I make it my personal duty to find that one person."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "And why are you talking to me _now_? I've been here for practically three weeks."

"Because it's hard to talk to someone who hates to talk to people, and goes out of her way to avoid fellow peers," he replied.

"Hmm," she looked back at her book.

"So, what're you reading?"

"_Magic: From the Birth of Spells_," she answered. "Fascinating subject."

"Pretty thick, isn't it?" he commented.

"Yep."

"How long before you finish it?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you reading it?"

"I'm bored."

"But you know all the stuff in it."

Lily's head snapped up. "What is this, Twenty Questions?"

"_Touché_," Peter grinned again, sitting down next to her. "You're in the same house as me, right?"

"Depends on what house you're in."

"The same as the yours," he answered. "Tell me, what's going on between you and that Potter fellow?"

"Absolutely nothing," she answered. "Why?"

"Because… We may be shallow here, but we're not blind," he said. "Or, at least, I'm not."

"I hate his guts."

Peter chuckled softly. "Sure you do."

Lily frowned. Peter Grismire. He was annoying and perceptive. _Great_, she thought. _An American version of James Potter._

*~*~*~*~*

James stared out the window. A cloudy day, but everyday seemed cloudy. 

"Mr. Potter? Do you know the answer?"

Startled, he looked up. "W-what?"

Mr. Minten frowned. "I _said_, Mr. Potter, do you know the answer?"

"To what?"

The math teacher gave an impatient sigh. "Two bicyclists start twenty miles apart and head toward each other, each going at a steady rate of ten m.p.h. At the same time, a fly that travels at a steady 15 m.p.h. starts from the front wheel of the southbound bicycle and flies to the front wheel of the northbound one, then turns around and flies to the front wheel of the southbound one, and continues in this manner till he is crushed between the two front wheels. What total distance did the fly cover?" (a/n: anyone know the answer?)

James almost immediately relaxed. His tutor had given the same question to him once, and he had done it the long way. Fortunately for him, his tutor had also taught him the quicker way to solve the problem.

"Fifteen miles, sir."

Mr. Minten frowned, and a few students turned around to find who had answered the question so quickly. "Ah, correct."

James nodded, then looked back at his notes. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that drowned out Mr. Minten's voice, saying, "There are two ways to solve the fly puzzle, to calculate the distance the fly covers on each trip between the two bicycles, then to sum up the infinite series obtained, or to observe that the two bicycles meet exactly an hour before they start…"

Why the heck was Evans staring at him?

*~*~*~*~*

Peter Grismire caught the look Lily had thrown at James.

Something of hate, anger, competitiveness, envy, and confusion. In fact, he sensed that every time she looked at James. 

Funny, that, for two people so much alike.

*~*~*~*~*

"Sirius, are you _crazy_? It's way too dangerous."

Sirius huffed. "We don't _have_ to have Prongs to control you. I can do it myself, with Peter."

Remus looked at him doubtfully. "The two of you could hardly subdue me together, with you alone…" he shuddered. "I don't want to think about how much I could hurt you or Peter."

Sirius sighed. "James should be back in a couple of weeks. Just a little less than a month, right?"

"Right," Remus nodded. "But just this time, I'll have to transform alone."

Sirius frowned, momentarily turning into a shaggy black dog, and cocked his head. "Grrrw?"

"No need to give the puppy dog face, Padfoot," Remus laughed.

"Grrrrrw." 

*~*~*~*~*

Lily Evans.

James frowned, thinking about the girl he had known for six- going on seven- years. She was a puzzle, that was for sure. One minute, she'd shout at him, the next she'd be having something that resembled a conversation with him, then she'd be back to shouting at him.

His thoughts were interrupted as someone stepped into the Common Room.

"Hi, James, what're you doing?" the boy asked.

"Thinking," he replied.

"About…?" the sandy haired boy prompted.

James turned around in the swivel chair. "Peter, what do you think about Lily Evans?"

Peter scratched his head. "I think that she's really quiet, but holds something under that façade that she won't tell anyone. And I think that she thinks that all of us Americans are shallow, incompetent, idiots."

James turned around again. "I think that what you think is right."

"Then it must be right," Peter concluded. "You've known her much longer than I have. She says you two don't get along well."

"Quite right, we don't."

"Then you probably know her best of all," he said.

"And why, may I ask, is that?" James asked, playing around with a pen cap.

Peter frowned. "Well, it's pretty obvious. In order to annoy her, which she says you do, you must have to know exactly what annoys her."

"You have a weird sense of logic, Peter."

"Uh, whatever," Peter turned and walked back to the dorm rooms.

*~*~*~*~*

__

Somewhere across an ocean and a few miles, in an old, abandoned castle, three cloaked figures stood.

The first, a man, said, "It is time."

The second, a tall figure, in the voice of a female, replied, "Why the hurry?"

"I thought we had a deal."

"We still do. But I must know, why the rush?"

The man was silent for a moment, then said, "She must be aware of her powers."

"B-b-but isn't there another way to inform her?" the third, a short man, asked (a/n: NOT Wormtail).

"What do you think I'm going to do, send her a gift basket with a little card attached to it?" the man asked scornfully.

The woman spoke again. "That might be a pleasant idea. Much less work on my part."

"Shut up!"

"Wait it out, Tom, we have time," she said.

"Whose side are you on?"

The woman paused, then answered, "I have told you, I don't take sides. I am not good or evil. You, of all people, should be able to tell the difference, Tom."

"Wench."

"Always a pleasure," the woman disappeared with a swish of her cloak.

*~*~*~*~*

Professor Dumbledore was at loss for words.

"Surely, you can't mean…" he trailed off, his eyes staring straight into the air, remembering.

Tom Riddle. A good kid, if not a little deluded by his abilities. One would wonder how a good person could go so wrong. Riddle could have done so much. He could have used his powers to help them. Instead, he had been blinded by his own greed for more power and made a wrong turn somewhere in his life. And now…

Lily Evans. Different from Tom, but there was that ambition in her, the same ambition that had been in Tom.

In a rush, he briefly jotted down a few sentences on a piece of parchment.

"Contact Principle Anderson at the school," he said. "With these specific instructions."

A knock on the door signaled the entrance of his meeting with Cornelius Fudge, the Head of the Dark Arts Defence department.

Quickly dropping the paper into the fireplace, he watched as the paper glowed a deep green for a moment, then curled up in flame. 

"Albus, I need to speak with you…" the door swung open, and Cornelius walked in.

"Yes?" Dumbledore looked up from writing his notes.

Whoever he had been speaking with just a moment ago was gone.

*~*~*~*~*

"What now?" She didn't even look up.

"Just felt like saying hi," Peter said. "Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"_Why_ are you saying 'hi' to me?" Lily asked. "What, exactly, started the need for the feeling of acceptance among human beings?"

"Primitive emotions?" Peter crinkled his brow. "Don't ask me. So, what's up?"

"The sky."

"You and Potter. You guys think almost exactly the same or exactly the opposite," Peter noted.

Lily sighed irritably. Why did everyone tell her that? Annoying. Annoying, annoying, annoying!

"Nothing I haven't heard before."

Peter shrugged. "Then I'm surprised it irritates you so much."

"Stupid primitive emotions," she replied blithely, "Don't pay attention to them." 

*~*~*~*~*

James Potter was a smart kid. Brighter than most his age.

His father had made sure of that. James Potter Senior had made sure that his son was well rounded in every way thought possible.

He knew how to divide six digit numbers in his head, play the piano, and horseback ride. He had mastered calculus, algebra, and trig. He had learned the differences between muggle math and magical math. He was well acquainted with the classic books, could write a shining essay on the six hundred uses for ginseng roots, and had an extraordinary ability to memorize things. He could dance the waltz, Viennese Waltz, Tango, and a few other varieties of ballroom dances. He spoke French and Latin fluently, along with his polished English.

He, whose father had been sure to give him the finest education, muggle and magical, was baffled. Baffled, confused, lost, whatever one wanted to call it.

Many people would gladly switch lifestyles with him, no doubt about it. Rich, popular, intelligent. He had it all. But there was definitely something missing.

Sirius, his best friend, had filled some of that emptiness.

"Life is for living, Potter," Sirius had told him once. "I don't think your dad did a good job on teaching you _that_."

Indeed, if Sirius was right, his father may have forgotten to teach him that. 

But then, James countered, one couldn't teach another how to _live_. A person had to find it out on their own. Sirius was brought up the same way he had been, surprisingly.

In fact, he had known him even before Hogwarts. But Sirius' family wasn't quite so… subdued, as one could call it.

Sirius' "Joie De Vivre", which made him so likable, was what he was missing. That inspiring spark of… well, life. 

The one time he ever found himself with that spark was when he was around Lily Evans. She challenged him, made him work for… he didn't even know what. A sense of achievement, he guessed. She was filled with passion in every thing she did, and after she gave her all on one project, she started another one. She channeled the same energy towards the verbal fights they had.

When he thought about it, she was the one person who had ever given him a challenge. Sure, there was Snape, but the dislikable Slytherin wasn't much of a challenge when put up to his IQ level. Then there was Sirius.

James was sure that if Sirius had wanted to be his enemy, he would have made a very good one. His friend was quite intelligent, though he didn't seem to show it. 

So, alas, there was Lily Evans, the one person who challenged him. The only person with the same social status and same intellect level that ever dared to challenge him.

In the back of his mind, he did admire her for that. She was much more carefree, and didn't seem to care _quite so much_ as him as to what other people thought of her.

His father had made sure he knew the importance of being socially accepted.

"Stupid primitive emotions," he muttered.

Like two peas in a pod.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N): Okay, that was probably pretty good. Even if I do say so myself, the end was good, the beginning was just a little… _blah_. Now, to clear up a few things:

James & Lily: still hate each other, but they're on the road to tolerance.

Peter: No romantic interest with Lily at all, though he does have a role in the story.

The whole Italic scene: Hmm… like I'm telling you.

Tragic News: Working on it. It just didn't fit in with this scene. Events and characters just seem to take a life of their own.

To Come: Tragic News. Maybe. A few more incoherent musings by James, we see more of Peter, and Professor Minten throws a hissy fit for who knows what reason (math teachers these days.).


	17. Drama and Life

Chapter 17

(A/N): Thanks for all the reviews!

****

To Pearbunny: I just reread my last chapter, and I agree; it was pretty "scattered". Confusing at times, I guess. Sorry. It's hard to get the perspective of each character when they're an ocean apart. I'll work on my "smoothness" more. Thanks for the constructive criticism!

****

To For Pink: Actually, I had been wondering about that too. Anyway, Lily's maiden name was written in an interview of J.K. Rowling's, along with other questions she answered (such as James' quidditch position) on www.scholastic.com, if I remember correctly.

Excuse the pointlessness of some parts in this chapter. I had to cure Writer's Block.

Disclaimer: I own the plot. _Sherlock Holmes_ belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the want to read it comes from a friend of mine, who's very good at drawing and the flute (you know who you are).

*~*~*~*~*

Lily Evans, sitting in a deep chestnut colored chair, in an office of some sort, sighed deeply.

Personally, she didn't find the experience of coming to America remotely enjoyable. 

The day hadn't started out very well. She had woken up half an hour after her alarm clock rang, thanks to her dorm mates. Her only clean blouse was crinkled from no ironing, which she hadn't the time to do. In her rush to get to breakfast, she had left her Mathematics textbook in her room. By the time she had gotten it back, breakfast was practically over. Someone spilled their milk onto her uniform, which she had charmed off. In her haste, she hadn't done a very good job of it, and there was a slight difference in the shades of green on the sweater she wore.

Then, some careless student had bumped into her, and as one of her pens dropped, it exploded, the ink getting all over her books. 

So, there she was, sitting in the office of the school psychiatrist, whom all the exchange students were required to meet with once a week, in her two-toned green sweater, extremely crinkled yellow blouse, and plaid green pleated skirt, with blue ink splattered over the lower parts of it, and over her socks.

At the sight of her, the psychiatrist had to smile a bit.

With the sullen expression on her face, Lily Evans looked every bit like a six year old whose kite had just gotten chewed up by the neighbor's dog, rather than the seventeen year old that she was.

"Hello, Miss Evans," the psychiatrist, Mrs. Whittier, greeted, concealing a smile.

"Hi," she said shortly.

"Bad morning?" Mrs. Whittier asked.

"Yeah."

"Let it out, honey," Mrs. Whittier advised. "You'll feel much better."

Lily looked at the psychiatrist.

Mrs. Whittier was not the bad sort. In fact, she liked her pretty much. The woman was getting older, though. Gray streaked the wispy brown hair, crows' feet forming at her eyes. She wore brown all the time; today she was wearing a brown skirt and blouse, a brown hair clip holding her hair in a low ponytail.

Lily didn't mind seeing Mrs. Whittier once a week, but the psychiatrist seemed to be stuck somewhere back in the fifties'.

"I hate it here," Lily answered. "No offence to you, Mrs. Whittier, but the teachers here don't make it a challenging enough environment for me here."

"The students provide a challenge to you, don't they?" she asked. "After what you've told me, it's a challenge to adapt here."

"Well, that doesn't matter _too_ much," Lily shrugged. "Social status isn't what bothers me. It's just that the teachers… they don't do a very good job. Their grading standards are much too low."

"Miss Evans, I don't mind you criticizing our school's teaching system, but," Mrs. Whittier sighed, "Lily, dear, you're young. You probably wouldn't understand-"

"Try me," she frowned.

Mrs. Whittier sighed again. "Well, some of the students here aren't quite up to your level. They aren't _stupid_, it's just that your standards are higher, so they _seem_… um, of lower IQ."

"But the teachers really should raise their standards," Lily protested. "It would produce better results on the students' parts, too."

"Lily…" Mrs. Whittier sighed for the third time. "Let's talk about something else. What do you think of your roommates?" 

"I don't. And they don't think of me, either," she answered.

Mrs. Whittier frowned. "Lily, Lily, Lily. What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm guessing that's a rhetorical question," Lily drummed her fingers against the arm of the chair.

*~*~*~*~*

Mrs. Whittier smiled at James Potter.

The boy was a favorite of hers, for sure. Always filled with a spirit that many students lacked.

"Mornin', Helen," he greeted cheerfully, whistling some melody under his breath. "Oh- sorry. I meant 'Mrs. Whittier'."

Mrs. Whittier chuckled.

James Potter… he was about as different from Lily Evans as night was to day, but she had a sneaking suspicion… Well, best not to meddle with other people's lives. But the two were at each other's throats half the time, though when she talked to Lily, the girl always replied in short, sharp, answers, whereas James would describe the argument or prank to the last detail, usually in a cheerful voice, calling her by her first name, and whistling something-

Mrs. Whittier's eyes narrowed. "What'd you do to her this time?"

*~*~*~*~*

Lily flopped onto her bed, quite unhappy at the moment.

She had found that her Charms homework, which she had painstakingly rewritten after Christie handed it in as her own, had the ink running all the way down to the floor, staining the wall-to-wall carpeting with ink. 

Actually, she had written it with a ballpoint pen, but someone, James, no doubt, had turned it into ink. There went five days of work.

At the moment, though, she didn't have the time to be angry with his little "prank". No, it was just a minor annoyance compared to what she had overheard.

One of the girls' sister had joined some cult in California (a/n: ever heard of Jim Jones?), and she was obviously quite distressed.

Sighing, Lily rummaged through her trunk until she found what she was looking for- an old shoebox, filled with index cards, pictures, letters, memos, practically whenever she had found herself with the desire to write, she scribbled it down and stuffed it in the box. Over the years it had grown, so she put a bottomless charm on it once she was accepted into Hogwarts. Whenever she was in a bad mood, reading one of the self-memos she had made always cracked a smile on her face. Once she met James, she read something out of the box nearly every day.

Picking up a yellow sticky-note, dated _April 10th_,_ 1967_, she read, "_Lily, DON'T READ THIS UNTIL YOU'RE SEVENTEEN!!!!!_" 

"I was one crazy six year old," she chuckled under her breath, unfolding it.

__

"Hi, Lily.

Just in case you ever forget what happened today, I'm writing a note to you. Petunia calls it a "memoranda", but I- you, me- have no intenshiun of lisening to her. Remember, NEVER, EVER, EVER, fall in love. Boys are icky, anyway, but Petunia says they're not. But we're not lisening to her, remember? Anyway, Tommy Murphy teased me- you, me, whatever- about my red hair today, and I said that I'd never forgive him. Then he said he was sorry, and would I be his girlfrend. Ick. When I said no, he got mad at me, and, well, he said that I was ugly and no one would ever like me anyway. Well, I don't like boys anyway, 'cause all they do is play in dirt and stuff. Meanie. But just remember, now that you're seventeen years old, and probably beutiful and smart, be sure to send a picture of yourself to him. Ha!

Your six year old self,

Lily."

Lily frowned. "Delusional," she muttered. "And a terrible speller, too."

Still… once she was back at Hogwarts, she'd be sure to snap a Polaroid.

*~*~*~*~*

"A pet rock?" James crinkled his nose, as a kid in first year- fifth grade, they called it? - showed him a small rock in a box.

The boy nodded. "Yeah. See this?" he pointed at a small red tinted part on his rock. "I think my rock got an injury in its past, but my Manual doesn't talk about First Aid. But it tells me how to teach it tricks. Wanna see it roll over?"

"O…kay."

The boy smiled. "C'mon, Rocky, roll over, roll over," he said, nudging the rock, which rolled a bit. "See?"

James stared at the rock blankly. "You just made it roll with your hand."

"No. See, let me show you another trick," the boy said. "Play dead, Rocky, play dead."

The rock lay still.

"Good Rocky!"

James groaned and walked out to the field outside, where a football game was taking place. Pet rocks? How desperate were these people?

*~*~*~*~*

Lily shivered.

Classes were over, and everyone had gone outside to watch some game, involving boys barbarically tackling each other for no apparent reason, while throwing some leather covered ball around, and tackling each other even more. 

She had let her roommates drag her to the game, under the condition that she tutored them in muggle math, science, and history (lucky for her, they were covering the history of England, Britain, and France).

Personally, it didn't seem like she was gaining anything out of the deal, but she was half-asleep when they shook her awake at four in the morning, when they invited her to the game. 

"I should have brought a coat," she muttered, kicking a clump of snow, and sitting down on a bench, zipping her jacket up more. "And a book."

"Ditto," a voice said behind her. "Minus the book."

She turned around to see the ever familiar face of James Potter. "What're you doing here?"

James shrugged. "Football. Had a muggle friend who ranted on and on about it back home, so I decided to come and see for myself. Didn't expect them to play in the sleet and snow, though."

Lily raised an eyebrow. This coming from the Quidditch captain who worked his team like horse and trainer?

"You're one to speak," she muttered as she hugged herself to keep warm. "You play in all weather conditions. Last time, in fifth year, there was a blizzard outside, and your team _still_ didn't come in to stop playing."

"Well, that's different," his voice taking a defensive tone. "Quidditch is… important."

Lily rolled her eyes.

"So, what book would you have brought?" 

She turned around to face him again. "Excuse me?"

"You said that you should have brought a book," he shrugged. "I'm curious to know which one."

*~*~*~*~*

Pointless questions.

The fourth best way to annoy Lily Evans, James knew.

She would always answer, but she'd act annoyed. Her answers were always something he would probably answer himself, he'd noticed, as Sirius had pointed out in third year. A past time of his was to guess what her answer would be. And his guess was…

"_The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_," she answered. "By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Exactly.

James nodded. "Why?"

"Because…" Lily shrugged. "Actually, I don't know. Why?"

"No reason," he stared straight ahead. After a pause, he said, "Hardcover or paperback?"

*~*~*~*~*

James Potter wasn't her first choice company, but he was better than none.

Lily smiled, in spite of herself, then answered softly, "Hardcover."

It wasn't as if she _enjoyed_ his company, far from that, but whenever they _did_ speak, on civil terms, it was usually a thought-provoking conversation. 

"Really? I would have chosen paperback," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

A smile tugged at the side of her mouth. "And why, Mr. Potter, is that?"

"Because, Miss Evans," he took a seat on the bench next to her, "My hardcover copy is back at home."

Lily rolled her eyes. Quite like him to say that. Turning back to the game, she stared at the small clump of trees just beyond the field, some snow falling off of it, as a small bird flew away.

"Lots of snow here, isn't there?" he asked, following her gaze.

"Actually, I was thinking of the bird," she replied. "I'm surprised. Usually, you know everything I'm thinking."

"I'm perceptive, not psychic," he said, standing up, brushing off the snow on his jacket. 

"Could have fooled me," she murmured. Over the years, she had discovered he could predict ever word that came out of her mouth. Annoying, it was. Several times in the past, he had proven his point by saying her answer before she did. 

A whistle blew out of nowhere, announcing half time of the game.

"Cold, are you?" he asked suddenly, noticing her shivering.

"Very," she said absent mindedly, watching as Christie and Amanda, her roommates, giggle and twirl their hair like airheads as the football players came their way. So America wasn't _that_ different from England.

"Why don't you do the logical thing, like me, and go inside for hot chocolate?" James' voice stirred her from her thoughts.

She tilted her head. "Is that an invitation?"

"It is indeed," he offered a hand.

Lily smiled, a rare thing, for James. "I do believe I'll take you up on that offer," she smiled, taking the hand.

"So," James said, as they walked over to the cafeteria, "Why hardcover?"

*~*~*~*~*

Peter Grismire closed his eyes. 

She was in the cafeteria, with Potter, drinking hot chocolate, though they weren't talking. Working on essays and reading, was more like it. 

At least they weren't screaming at each other.

Albus would be happy about that. Voldemort would be happy about that. The two were worth more together, the two worked better together.

Still, he was supposed to "expect the unexpected"; it was his job there. A curveball could be thrown at him at anytime, and he had to anticipate it.

And those two spent _way_ too much time in the library. If they grabbed hold of records, documents, or yearbooks there…

Peter let out a slow breath. No matter. There was a highly unlikely chance they'd find out anyway. Just as long as he didn't let them know too much about himself, everything would be fine.

Just fine.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily tapped her pen on the notebook paper.

Professor Minten was in a bad mood today, she'd noted.

Not that he was ever in a _good_ mood, but today… He'd said, "Quiet, quiet, shut up, will you?" to Tommy Hughes, the quiet kid that always sat in the back of the class to avoid questions when he had pointed out that the equation on the board had an error to it.

And now…

"Your cat ate it? _YOUR CAT ATE IT?!_ What do you think I am, a gullible idiot? I assigned this _last week_. You had _seven days_ to work on it. There is _no excuse_ for this!"

Christina blushed. "Um, no. Actually, my roommate has it," she said, rushing over to Lily. "She has it, sir."

*~*~*~*~*

James looked up.

Evans could never say "no" to that. Christie Miller was persuasive, and could put up a good act.

"Miss Evans? Is this true?" Professor Minten strode up to her, so there were two people crowding up at her desk.

"I-I-I- um, I…" 

Pathetic, really. Lily wasn't a spineless person who was trampled on by others, otherwise he wouldn't have picked her as an enemy in first year. 

So why did this new environment turn her into a spineless wimp?

He didn't know. 

"Miss Evans?" Obviously Minten wanted more out of her. Like a confession.

"Well, sir, I… I-I…" Stuttering. Evans was stuttering, something he was sure she would never have done back in England. What was it that changed her so much here?

"She took it, sir," Christie continued. "All my hard work, in the past seven days, she took it all."

Was Minten really that gullible? Lily could have finished that entire essay in an hour. Actually, half an hour. They had been going over it the day before in the cafeteria, and it was definitely a good essay.

Christina was good, she knew exactly who to blame, didn't she?

Minten turned to Lily. "Miss Evans?"

"I have proof, sir!" Christie whipped out her notebook, one that looked an awful lot like Lily's. "The handwriting matches mine. Not hers."

She pointed at the notes on Lily's notebook. Slanted, narrow, loopy cursive on the essay, and a rounded print on the notes.

So Miller was good at handwriting charms.

*~*~*~*~*

Professor Minten snatched the essay away from her.

"Miss Evans, I am disappointed in you. I thought you would have known better than to cheat off of Christina. A detention is in order for this misbehavior."

"But sir, that's _my_ essay!" she stood up. "Christina has no idea about the differences between muggle and magical math, let alone their history from their origins. Ask her."

Professor Minten frowned. "Miss Evans, this isn't your handwriting-"

"Yes, it is! How can you compare script with print? Besides, I was just working on this yesterday, you can ask-" she started, broken off by a disbelieving professor.

"You finished all this work in one day?" he sneered. "Miss Evans, an essay of this length would require extensive research, not a last minute's work."

"It did," Lily shrugged. "I had the same essay in fifth year."

"Do you mean to say," Minten glared at her, "that we are giving you too easy work, here?"

"No, sir. It's just that it _is_ my essay. I finished it yesterday, just ask Potter," she replied.

The math teacher sighed, and glanced at the other student. "Mr. Potter?"

"She was working on it, sir," he answered.

Professor nodded. "Very well, very well. I'll take your word on it," he turned to Christie. "Miss Miller? Two detentions."

Christina opened her mouth to protest, but instead, she stormed to her seat and hissed at Lily, "Thanks a lot, Evans."

*~*~*~*~*

"May I join you?"

Lily looked up from her lunch tray to see Peter.

"Yeah, sure," she shrugged.

"Quite a drama back there in class, wasn't it?" he asked.

He was referring to the little argument in muggle math class. Apparently, she was the first person to ever argue with Professor Minten. Or even Christie, for that matter.

"Hmm," she studied the salt shaker. "Not really."

"So your life is generally this exciting?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

Interesting salt shaker. The small grains of white were practically sparkling, like the snow outside, and the glass reflected her face. It was-

"Lily? I asked you a question."

"Interesting salt shaker," she said aloud. "Don't you think?"

Peter stared at her. Great, now he thought she was weird. 

"Never mind," she blushed. She didn't need her one alliance in the school to think she was addled in the brain.

"So," Peter quickly changed the subject, "I saw you at the football game. Not exactly your scene, I don't think."

"Christie and Amanda dragged me there," she explained, continuing to study the salt shaker. 

"So, interesting salt shaker, huh?" Peter grinned.

*~*~*~*~*

For the next few days, Lily and James didn't talk much to each other.

Aside from an occasional glance, they didn't make any eye contact at all. Still, a little while after the "drama" in the math class, Lily gained some sort of recognition among the students, some respect.

Christie, of course, wasn't too happy about it, but she wasn't worried about it.

James, on the other hand, who was still more popular by far, became more observant of people and the school, and disappeared into the library for hours at a time, as did Lily. In fact, they often bumped into each other there, though they hardly exchanged any words. 

If one wanted to find him, he could be found poring over books in the History of the School section of the library, whereas she could have easily been found in the Records and Histories of Early Dark Arts section.

Why these two sections of the library, no one was sure, but nobody seemed to care. Nobody, that is, except for Peter Grismire.

*~*~*~*~*

Albus Dumbledore frowned.

An envelope was clutched in his hand, with the seal of the Minister of Magic. Lately, the Minister had been writing to him constantly about the Voldemort hysteria. 

Dumbledore's clear blue eyes seemed to grow misty as he remembered the past few days, during which the Ministry had contacted him six times, four times the Minister of Magic himself.

No progress, apparently, on the subject of Voldemort and his followers. The students of Hogwarts were receiving owls that carried the news of deaths of their families even more frequently, most of the deaths involving the relatives of the sixth, seventh, and first years. 

Albus didn't believe, as the Ministry seemed to, that the deaths were randomly picked. Tom Riddle had always had a reason for everything. There was a pattern there, they just had to find it.

He slit the envelope open, finding a letter, wrapped around another envelope, the familiar black envelope that brought news of death.

His eyes scanning the letter, the Headmaster's eyes grew bleak, as he whispered, "No, it can't be."

Reading on, his eyes closed, as he seemed to take it all in. He sighed heavily, and said, "Minerva?"

In the room next to him, the door swung open, and the taut faced professor appeared. "Yes, Albus?"

"Contact the Salem School of Magic," he instructed firmly. "For the return of Lily Evans and James Potter. Immediately."

Professor McGonagall looked slightly shocked. "Albus…?"

"I must owl this… letter," Dumbledore said gravely.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily glanced up from her breakfast table, where a tawny owl was flying in, close to her.

The owl landed next to her, and ruffled its feathers importantly, nudging her and nodding at the black envelope tied to its leg.

"It's a letter," she said, in disbelief. Weren't the exchange students forbidden to receive mail?

James glanced at it. "That's the Ministry seal," he said slowly, meaning the dark, blood red seal on the back. 

Lily frowned, and slowly slit the envelope open.

"Well?" James asked, knowing what news a black envelope usually carried.

Lily's eyes, after scanning the letter, slowly met his and then…

She dropped into a dead faint.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N): Oooh, dramatic. Hmm, it probably isn't my best, but it can't be the worst.

Anyway, that's what I'd like to know.

**__**

Please r/r, and tell me your favorite chapter so far, and your least favorite chapter so far, and the reason.

To Come: Well, it's rather obvious, isn't it? What happens to Lily, the letter's contents (which are rather obvious, in my opinion), and Leslie.

Sorry, if this chapter seems pointless. I was suffering from severe writer's block. 


	18. Reminisce and the One out of Ten

Chapter 18

(A/N) Yay! Wow, you guys seem to _hate_ cliffhangers… and that really wasn't a good one, either.

****

Thanks to TunedIn for pointing out my mistake in spelling.

Who can figure the meaning of _this_ chapter title?

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda, I own _nothing. _Orpheus and Eurydice are two people in Greek mythology. I'm not bothering to give the abbreviated version; the last time I did, everyone gave me a longer, more accurate version of it. In rough, Orpheus played music beautifully, his wife, Eurydice, died, he went into Hades to retrieve her and had to promise not to look at her once on the way back to the realm of the living, otherwise she'd return to Hades. Not bearing to be able to not see his wife, Orpheus snuck a peek, and almost lost her. Instead, Zeus decided to allow them to live on Mount Olympus. Correct me if I'm wrong.

****

Important Author's Note: I uploaded this chapter earlier, but then I found that it wasn't satisfactory to me, so I removed it for editing. Sorry for the inconvenience! Thanks for putting up with me for so long, too!

*~*~*~*~*

James, with a suitcase in each hand, walked up to the front of Hogwarts School of Wizardry.

Though they had returned a few weeks earlier than expected, he was happy to be back, nonetheless.

They had been on a plane bound for England before they knew it. The reason of their return wasn't a pleasant one; it was rather depressing. But he would be happy to see his friends. 

Turning around, he saw Lily, with her arms folded, walking up the icy walkway to the door of the school. Of course, he could see past the façade she was holding up, but he wasn't about to risk getting a snappy lecture from her for talking to her. From the entire ride from the car, to the airport, the plane, the airport, and the coach bus, she still hadn't said a word to him. Instead, she stroked her owl and read a book, or just looked out of the window. 

The door swung open, and McGonagall ushered them in. 

And once the door closed, James had an odd feeling that things would be changing very soon.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily sighed, dropping her two suitcases on the floor of her dorm room.

Taking a quick look at it, she'd found (rather gratefully) that the place hadn't changed at all. It took her a while to realize how glad she was that it hadn't. 

After her time in America, where she had complained (in a spoiled manner, she'd realized with chagrin later) about everything from the staff to the facilities, comparing it to Hogwarts, she was endlessly glad to find that the place hadn't changed since she left.

She wasn't sure why, it wasn't as though she had expected it to, but when she had walked into the school, the familiar sense of… belonging, she supposed, had embraced her. It had been something she had been lacking for the past few weeks, a feeling she had missed without realizing it. 

Lily let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

If it had been under a different circumstance, she might have been happy, delighted, even. But now…

She collapsed onto her bed, fatigue from the trip catching up to her, while trying to block out the voices in her head.

"_Marigold and Richard Evans are dead. Your parents are dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead..._"

She groaned as the word echoed in her head. As if she needed to be reminded. Deciding she needed a break from it all, Lily walked outside, not bothering to throw on a jacket.

*~*~*~*~*

James peered out the velvety maroon drapes that adorned the large window which gave him a view of the side of Hogwarts, the stretch of the Lake, the gazebo, the cherry blossom trees that lined part of the lake, the large, bare, oaks that seemed to act as large, strong, guards, barring intruders from entering the grounds of Hogwarts.

The grounds were covered in a thick snow, like a quilt on a bed. A figure stood out in the glistening, sparkling, white snow, the familiar figure of Lily Evans.

James wondered vaguely why she wasn't inside with her friends, who had seemed eager to hear everything, from what he'd seen earlier. 

It might have something to do with how they all suddenly silenced themselves and spoke in hushed voices after she told them about the death of her parents, he supposed.

Most people would turn to their friends in their times of need, James noted, but Evans had never exactly been that type. He didn't think she'd wanted sympathy, and her friends had given her enough sympathy to drown in. 

Still, of all the places she could have gone, that didn't explain why she was out in the freezing cold with just her uniform on, not a coat, jacket, or robe. 

The winters could be below freezing at Hogwarts, James knew from experience, and the outside cold was simply numbing. Grabbing a jacket to wear over his uniform, he headed out, for reasons he didn't know himself.

__

To keep her company, a voice answered him, as he turned the door handle. Shaking that thought out of his head, James walked out into the freezing cold.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily shivered, scolding herself for not bringing at least a sweater.

The room was just too stifling, even without her friends to question and comfort her endlessly, talking to her as if she were a child, treating her as if she were a fragile, fragile, doll, ready to fall to pieces in any moment.

She hadn't even cried yet, she realized. Not that it would achieve anything remotely important. Crying wouldn't bring back her parents, would it? 

No use adding her tears to the ocean of tears shed already in the world, for far more important reasons than hers, Lily told herself bitterly. She wasn't the only one with problems, and it was selfish of her to take pity on herself. (A/n: see what twisted thinking Lily has?)

"Hi."

Lily frowned, recognizing the voice. Instead of acknowledging the speaker, she sank onto one of the benches in the gazebo, facing the lake.

James, knowing that he wasn't going to get a reply, took a seat next to her.

Lily reached her hand out and broke off a twig on the Cherry blossom tree. Like that twig, her life had suddenly been snapped into two. Discarding it, she turned to meet his eyes.

"What, Potter?" she asked, her tone cold enough to match the below freezing temperatures outside. 

James stared at her, something that unnerved her, like he was trying to see into the back of her skull. "Aren't you cold?" he asked at last. "It's freezing out here."

Lily's skin prickled. That was rather personal. "I like the air," she answered, a hint of defiance in her voice. "It clears the mind."

"Your mind, you mean," James said, still watching her face, as if reading every expression. "Some of us find that it numbs the mind."

Lily looked away, very aware of his gaze. "I sincerely hope that you're one of them," she answered crisply. "Then, perhaps, you'd leave me alone."

"Not a chance," he replied. "Orpheus didn't abandon Eurydice."

Lily looked at him strangely, and it took him a moment to realize what he just said. 

*~*~*~*~*

Lily frowned as she walked down the corridor to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore had called for her to the office, for some "important matters to discuss", he had called it. She assumed it involved the death of her parents. Everyone was comforting her, extending sympathies…

She didn't want that. She wanted to forget, she wanted to run away from all of it.

But then, Lily thought bitterly, as she walked past the stone gargoyles that guarded the door, it was hard to escape from a brutal truth when everyone constantly reminded her of it. And escape was exactly what she wanted to do. To be whisked off to where pain and hurt didn't exist, or at least where she wasn't reminded of the source of the hurt.

And it did hurt. It hurt so much, but she wouldn't let herself show it. It was a sign of weakness, and wasn't that what Voldemort wanted? This was war, and she wasn't about to let him win, she told herself fiercely, as Dumbledore opened the door to admit her.

"Take a seat, Miss Evans," he said gravely, gesturing towards the large chair in his office.

Waiting for her to walk in, Dumbledore closed the door, shaking his head.

It was from that exact moment that Lily knew something was wrong. She just didn't know _how_ wrong.

And she would soon find out.

*~*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, Lily stared in horror at the Headmaster, as if expecting him to say, at any moment, that it was a horrible, terrible, joke.

He didn't.

"Miss Evans? You realize what I am saying?" Dumbledore asked kindly, gently. He used the same voice everyone used when they talked to her.

Of course she realized what he was saying. Harsh reality hit her like a ton of bricks. She, Lily Evans, could be one of the most powerful people in the wizarding world- if she wanted to be.

It was a "gift", one that would allow her to become invisible at will, shift molecules, take the shape of anything or anyone, see into the depths of a person's soul, among other things.

She would have the potential to do so many things, so many terrible, wonderful, things. And she was given an option- she could accept or decline.

Not being able to voice her thoughts, she nodded mutely.

Dumbledore smiled bitterly. "You are dismissed, Miss Evans. Oh, and Lily?"

Halfway out the door, Lily turned. "Yes, sir?" she asked, failing to keep the tremble out of her voice.

"Think it over. You have time. Don't be hasty; it would be a poor thing to create a lifetime regret from a moment of bad judgement," he said, his smile disappearing.

Lily nodded and shut the door on her way out.

*~*~*~*~*

Dumbledore stared out the oriel that gave him a clear view of the quidditch pitch.

He sincerely hoped that Lily would make the right choice. He hoped she wouldn't make the decision because of Riddle, her parents, or just out of revenge.

Albus Dumbledore had hoped many things in his life, but never had he wished for something so much. He hadn't told her this, but her decision could decide the fate of hundreds of people.

Power affected and scared people, and her choice needed to be made purely on her own, not out of sympathy for those other couple hundred people her decision would affect. 

The Headmaster sighed, knowing that at times like these, they could only hope for hope.

Watching as the sky slowly turned from day to night, stars slowly making their appearance, Dumbledore made a wish on every one of those stars. The Ministry was right about her.

She was the One.

*~*~*~*~*

James Potter sighed.

He wasn't in the mood to talk to his friends, finding that in the past few days, everything that he had gone by, everything he had known, had vanished.

The letter he had received by owl post that next morning had been the last straw.

His mother was dying. His mother, who had been surrounded by experts and doctors with the best training, muggle and magical, was dying. 

And all his father could write about his dying wife was two, hollow, sentences.

While his wife's pending death seemed to be a matter not quite so important, James' father had found the time to write two paragraphs about the wallpaper in the dining room that he was stripping and replacing.

James put away the letter. His mother was dying, and his father was worrying about the wall paper patterns that matched the china patterns the best.

James knew his father wasn't a terrible person, but the man was hardly what he considered to be a good father, caring husband, or even a remotely supportive figure in his life. He knew, though, even if James Potter Senior was a good man, and a great leader, he would always be unable to fill a certain void in his life; he'd never be able to carry out his role as a good father.

"Hi, James," a voice said. James looked up to see Remus sitting down next to him, Madame Pince telling him to "hush, he was disturbing those at work", though they were the only ones in the library.

"My family is dysfunctional," James groaned, launching into a brief explanation.

Remus' mouth parted slightly, aghast at what his friend had confided in him. "Oh," was all that came out.

James stared at him for a second, then hit his head on the library table. "That hurt," James said mildly, blinking. Looking up, James groaned again. "I have research to do, I almost forgot. Later, Remus."

Remus watched as James walked off to a different section of the library, and noticed the books he had left on the table.

"_Students of Notice: Past & Present_, _The History of Salem School of Witchcraft_, _Students Who Left Their Mark: Volume XI, Salem- Stretton_, _Copies of Yearbooks of Salem School of Witchcraft: 1960-1975_, _Random Trivia You Never Knew You Never Knew: Volume XXVII, Schools of North America_," Remus read, shaking his head. "What the…?"

Thus, Remus left the library wondering of his friend's sudden interest in the Salem School of Witchcraft, and questioning the sanity of the Head Boy.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily, standing behind a bench, paused in her afternoon stroll to watch a few of the fifth and sixth years playing around in the snow. Nearby, under the giant oak, a few seventh years were laughing over some witticism of one of the Ravenclaws. A few second years were playing jump rope, giggling every time the jumper kicked up some clumps of snow. 

Somehow, normal scenes such as those made her angry. Because her parents would never see a scene like those again.

The loose blue shawl her mother had given her last Christmas suddenly seemed suffocating.

Suffocating her with emotion.

"Hello," a voice greeted. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Lily turned around to meet the eyes of James Potter. "They're not really worth a penny," she said finally. 

"Hmm," James scratched his chin, "That's a new one. Well, two for the price of one, then."

"Going once, going twice, sold to the young man with messy, unkempt, hair," Lily's smile was thin. She took his offered arm, and they continued to walk around the grounds of Hogwarts, her grip on his arm rather tight, as if she would fall any minute. James did indeed seemed to be holding her up, as she was walking stiffly.

"So," James reached into his pockets and found a penny, "How about those thoughts? I had to bargain a bit."

Lily laughed, the first genuine laugh since… forever, it seemed. "Have you ever loved and lost somebody, Mr. Potter?"

James' eyes suddenly didn't seem to laugh anymore. In fact, they seemed to darken slightly. "Yes," he answered slowly. "Yes, I do believe I have, Miss Evans."

"Hmm," Lily pulled the shawl more closely around her. "We have more in common than I thought. Well, I must say, it's a terrible experience. And contrary to popular belief, it's _not_ better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."

James continued to walk. "Continue, Miss Evans. You intrigue me."

"Like having the most precious thing you own being ripped away from you," Lily said, her voice turning icy. "Like having someone step on your heart, your soul, hundreds of times. Like having a broken heart that continues to break."

"And after a while, you wonder, did the person you loved ever exist at all?" James snapped a twig from a low branch of another oak, ignoring the look on Lily's face. "Perhaps they were just someone you wanted so much that you dreamt them up. And all common sense screams at you to forget about it, and tells you that it would hurt so much less. But then, you just have to cling on to that stupid shred of hope that tells you to never forget about it, no matter how much it hurts, that they'll return someday."

"Oh," Lily said softly. "I suppose so."

James seemed to snap out of a trance. "What?" he frowned. "Sorry, go on. I was just thinking about something else."

"Penny for your thoughts," Lily smiled.

"Nothing. It's nothing. What were you saying?" James snapped another twig.

Lily sighed. "Nothing. That's about it, really."

*~*~*~*~*

Lily stared at the small, framed picture on her desk, of the last time she had seen her parents before school started.

She smiled involuntarily as she reminisced the day the picture had been taken.

She remembered the day clearly, from the crisp, fall air that mingled with the scent of her mother's freshly baked pie (family recipe, of course) that was cooling by the window, to the red, gold, and orange leaves drifting slowly to the ground.

Her father had just gotten a new camera, one that wouldn't actually be sold to the public for another five years. Excited, he had called the entire family outside to the backyard, where the golden sunlight streaming in was "just perfect", as he'd said it. "Boys and their toys," Lily's mother had shook her head, stepping out anyway. It would have been a quite formal picture, Lily guessed, if it hadn't been for some interference on their pets' part. Their golden retriever, "Max" had bounded up to them, decided to give up his chase after a squirrel, and chose, instead, to tackle Lily and her sister, both of whom had fell to the ground laughing.

Their cat, a full grown white cat with blue eyes, named "Tinker Bell", had jumped up onto Mrs. Evans, catching her by surprise. Trying desperately to return to proper positioning before the flash clicked on the camera, they succeeded only in falling into the large pile of raked leaves, scattering them everywhere. 

It ended up with the entire family with real, genuine laughter, Max and Tinker looking extremely pleased with themselves.

Lily let a single tear roll down her cheek, before wiping it away impatiently.

"Stop it, Evans," she muttered. "Don't do this to yourself. Feeling only makes it hurt worse."

She stared at her cold reflection in the mirror, which said in a raspy voice, "Lovely, dear. You've changed completely."

*~*~*~*~*

James stopped reading, halfway through a sentence.

He couldn't concentrate, so he put down the book and checked his watch. _Five forty-three a.m._

He had woken up from a dream, none of which he remembered, but he hadn't been able to go back to sleep. So, he crept up to the Common Room, to study and read. It wasn't working.

Getting up, he walked over to the large, picture window, where the outside scene could be seen as a painting.

The sky was still dark, but a small glimmer of light was starting to appear. 

James remembered faintly of when he had been four or five, reading one of his father's astrology, trying to pronounce the words, with some difficulty. His mother had tried to help him, but a four year old reading a college book? She had eventually convinced his father to buy him a telescope, a muggle and magical one.

Though his father had bought it, he always thought of it as a gift from his mother. The stars were fading, slowly.

James smiled slightly. When it seemed like the world was against you, when you reached utter, complete, rock bottom, things could only get better.

Who had told him that?

Effie, the old cook, he remembered. When he was six, he had asked her why she was always so happy, even though she had such a bad life.

The rather robust cook with rosy cheeks had laughed at him, and said, "Youngster, when you get to be as old as me, you know more about life and how it works. It likes to play tricks on you, and throws obstacles at you. But in the end, all of that helps you."

He hadn't understood then. 

"How? How, Effie? How did it help you?" he had asked.

"It toughens you up," she had answered. "For when things aren't going so good. When you think life can't be worse, it gets worse. But when you reach rock bottom, the only way to go is up."

He hadn't understood that, either.

"Up, James, up. Goodness, child, that father of yours teaches you nothing, does he?"

James remembered his reply. "Up?" he had crinkled his nose. "You mean the upward movement to a more elevated position?"

"Nothing, he teaches you, that Potter. Now listen here, child. I've been working with this family for years, even when your daddy was a young boy-"

"He was _young_?" James' six-year-old self had asked incredulously. "You mean, like _me_?"

Effie had laughed, and James had wondered how this woman could laugh so much. "Now, listen, your father is a good man, but he doesn't know the finer things in life."

"But our meals are all gourmet, he says we have the finest estate in the country, and in three others, too. You mean they aren't fine?" James had asked, confused.

Effie had laughed at that, too. "No, I mean the little things that make life worth living for. Like a stroll on a fall day, smelling a fresh daisy, singing in the rain, having a good, old fashioned, snowball fight, falling in love, pure and true."

"Father says that the air is filled with pollen and other stuff during fall that makes… erm," James had paused, then said carefully, "a-ller-gies. He says that daisies are one notch up from weeds, that staying out in the rain gets you pneu… pneumo… pneumon…"

"Pneumonia, child, pneumonia," Effie had corrected him.

"Right, that," James had nodded. "And he said that playing in the snow makes a person get frostbite. Effie, what's frostbite?"

"Nothing, child," Effie had replied. "It's just your father being dramatic."

"Oh. So frostbite means father being dramatic?" James had said, nodding with understanding. "Anyway, he said that true love doesn't exist, only in the minds of dreamers and Shakespeare. Effie, what's 'Shakespeare'?"

"Who, not what," Effie had corrected. "Shakespeare was a writer. _He_ understood the finer things in life." At James' confused expression, she had replied, "You'll understand when you're older, I promise."

James had to smile a little. Effie had taught him about "life", and Sirius had helped. Effie had died of old age last year, and his father had been terribly upset. "That woman has been working for our family since my father was little. What'll we do without her? No one here can cook like her!"

Which was when they had employed the house-elves, who weren't nearly as fun as Effie had been.

James checked his watch. _Six a.m._

He sighed and walked down to the Great Hall, waiting for the rest of the students to come in.

*~*~*~*~*

"Brilliant, Peter! That was bloody brilliant!" Sirius clapped the terrified boy on the back while taking alarmingly large bites out of his sandwich and taking a swig of expired apple cider.

"B-b-b-but S-S-S-Severus was a-a-a-_awfully_ angry, Sirius," Peter said, casting a worried glance at the Slytherin table.

It had been Sirius's idea, all Sirius's idea. Just because he was caught…

The prank had been quite simple, and they had convinced him that nothing could go wrong. And he, being the gullible fool that he was, had actually believed them.

So, Peter had snuck out that night into the Slytherin's dormitories, and had done as Sirius had said. His mission: wet every quidditch player's finger with warm water. For some reason, that would make them wet the bed.

And it had worked.

But he sat on Snape's face when he had to rest.

__

Why did things always go wrong when _he_ did them?

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi, Lily," Remus greeted, sitting down next to her at the lunch table. "Where is everyone?"

Lily chewed her lip. "Well, Potter was in the library, Sirius said something about the apple cider not really being apple cider, and ran to throw up in the bathroom, and Peter ran out with him."

Remus laughed. "I told him it was a bad idea," he chuckled. "Looks like Snape is brighter than we thought."

"Don't want to know," Lily muttered. "What's going on, anyway?"

Remus ran his hand through his hair. "James has been acting strange, lately. Have you noticed?" the Marauder frowned. "He has every reason to be, but this latest obsession of his with the students of Salem…"

Lily shrugged. "Just a little strange," she noted. "Remus, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why does he act like that?" she asked. "James, I mean. One second, he's nice, sweet, and I can almost see why he's popular, the next second, he's just terrible, disagreeable, and downright mean?"

"I don't know," Remus answered. "It's just how he is. James was never good with emotions. You can never actually tell what he's really thinking."

"What do you mean?" Lily frowned.

"He just doesn't like to explain things," Remus answered. "He always said, either you get it the first time, or you don't. Not the best philosophy, but then, James is just like that. He doesn't like people getting close to him, so he closes up once you're too close to finding out how he really feels. Pity the poor girl who finally captures his heart. James always said that if nine out of ten girls like him, it'll be the tenth that he really loves. An interesting past time is trying to guess what he's thinking."

Lily laughed. "Interesting. You're right; it is an interesting past time. Thank you, Remus," she said, standing up, "for this most fascinating conversation."

As she turned to leave, Remus mused to himself, "If Lily were the one out of the ten…"

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Sorry, it was so short. Sorry you had to wait so long, too! Writer's block! So, I would appreciate it if you guys would r/r!

To Come: Snow, a funeral, an owl, Sweetheart's Valentine's Day Ball, and more.

**__**

Don't forget, tell me your favorite and least favorite chapter so far!


	19. Between the Past and Present

Chapter 19

(A/N) IIIIIIIIIIIIIII'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, after a month of writer's block, I have returned!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And it took me a report on Shakespeare to figure that out.

Wow… Did I ever tell you guys that you reviewers are _best???_

Particularly my most loyal reviewers who seem to review every chapter, despite the fact that I take eternity to update… You guys know who you are!

I can't stop smiling, because I finally found the song I have been wanting to listen to _forever_. It's on the Anastasia soundtrack… Quite fitting to L/J, actually. Can you guess?

Oh, and a note, read _Past, Present, and Future_ by someone, I'm beta-reading it! Then there's all of Sierra Sitruc's fics, but I don't think she needs advertising.

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

"My life is not normal," Lily sighed as they pushed past the throng of students rushing to their next class. "Really, I didn't think my life could get any more abnormal since my eleventh birthday, and then, _this_-" she sighed.

"Lily, it's not like Dumbledore didn't give you an option," Remus reasoned as they walked to the prefect's meeting. "He was even generous enough to give you a trial period of having all the power until you made your choice."

"Trial period," she scoffed. "Sounds like something out of one of those cheap infomercials selling products."

"So you declined the generous offer, eh?" Remus smiled to himself. "Anyway, you have more important things to worry about," he continued. "Like the Valentine's Day Ball."

Lily frowned as they continued to walk, passing a few Hufflepuff prefects. "A social gathering for a lame holiday used as an excuse for card companies to make more money is more important than a decision that could affect the lives of the wizarding world? Interesting. Explain."

"Well, _I_ don't think so, but," Remus frowned. "While you and James were out, they came up with plans for the ball. Since we weren't expecting you guys until after, they hadn't really thought about whether or not you would approve. But now that you're back, the 'substitute Heads' are back to being lowly prefects, and you and James need to look over their plans. And believe me, it's important, as if you don't, Hufflepuff girls will attack you, and you'll never _live_ to make that life-changing decision of yours."

"Oh." Lily half-smiled, as they reached the top of the steps. "Well, that changes everything."

"Yes, it does," Remus answered, waiting for her to walk in. 

"In we go, then."

*~*~*~*~*

James sighed as Minnie- or was it Missy? - continued to drawl on and on about the Valentine's Day Ball.

Pointless, really, since they would probably be doing the same thing as always- fountain of candy hearts, prefects, staff, and head students opening the dance… wait, he wasn't required to dance with Evans. Because of "developments", according to McGonagall. And, of course, Sirius's favorite part… the snack bars that lined the length of the Great Hall, containing assortments of candy, ice cream, sandwiches, turkey, chicken, salad bar on the other side of the Great Hall, with practically every type of dressing on earth, and then every beverage that existed known to man…

It was rather obvious as to why Sirius enjoyed the Valentine's Day Ball better than every ball with the exception of the Christmas Ball (which included a large smorgasbord of food…).

Lily, next to him, appeared, to the untrained eye, to be assiduously taking notes on every word flying out of Minnie's mile a minute mouth. But he, being a Marauder, took notice of things others did not. Instead of taking notes as Minnie the Hufflepuff Dunce talked, she was doodling on her notebook.

Suddenly, thankfully, the babble stopped. Lily looked up, capped her pen, and smiled at the girl.

"Thank you, Minnie, we will be sure to take your suggestions to the Headmasters. Any other questions or suggestions?" she smiled and looked around at the other prefects, who were slowly waking up from horrifying nightmares of being in Professor Binn's classroom for a second time in the day.

James, of course, knew that Lily Evans was the one person who kept them all from killing each other. If it had been him running the entire meeting, he would have cracked long ago, yelling, "SHUT UP, WE DON'T CARE!"

If anything, that was the one thing that made her admirable. She had patience that seemed to go on for eternity. And eternity was a long time, if James's opinion.

Another hand raised, another Hufflepuff… Gilderoy Lockhart. The prefects fell asleep again, Lily resumed doodling, and James let out a muffled groan.

*~*~*~*~*

"That was the dullest meeting I've ever been in," James said aloud, as the three seventh Gryffindors walked down the hall, the other Gryffindor prefect (Annabelle Zarks) trailed off to join her Ravenclaw friends.

"I rather liked the idea Lockhart came up with," Remus smiled grimly. "Little Valentine-delivering midgets going around the school."

"Trolls, Remus, _trolls_," Lily muttered, then stopped in her tracks before continuing. "Ugh, mental image."

James shuddered at the thought. Little midget trolls wearing little diapers and fake wings, and singing valentines, nonetheless. 

"What class is it now?" Lily asked suddenly.

"Erm… electives," Remus answered, checking his watch.

Lily groaned softly. "Oh, please, walk slow. I have no desire to listen to Sybil Trelawney's cousin discuss with the class of how I'll end up dying prematurely in my own house."

"Aunt," James corrected. "Sybil's cousin teaches at Beauxbatons, remember? Remus, slow down. I have Divination, too."

The three trudged across the snowy courtyard (the longest route from the great hall to Trelawney's room), discussing their plans for the Valentine's Day Ball.

*~*~*~*~*

Professor Trelawney walked up and down to aisles, pausing to smile at her little fifth year Ravenclaw niece, who was already taking seventh year Divination.

She was growing quite restless, after predicting two broken bones, a dispute with tragic results, and the death of someone's relative. She smiled, hearing her niece predict Gryffindor's loss in the next quidditch match, with six broken bones, four broken noses and two broken arms. The little dear was learning fast.

"Sorry we're late, professor," James Potter's voice said in the doorway.

Professor Trelawney's face looked up in annoyance. Lily Evans and James Potter. The two were her worst students, yet they somehow managed to maintain high marks when the grades came out.

"Take a seat," she said stiffly. "And you two must partner up with each other, due to your lack of punctuality."

"Professor, we have an announcement to make, regarding the Valentine's Day Ball," Lily said, waving around her notebook.

The attention of the students was immediately directed on the Head Girl, with more respect than Professor Trelawney had received in a lifetime.

Seemingly miffed, the professor nodded and took a seat behind her desk, and began to grade the homework.

__

'Fail… Fail… Fail… Fail… 100%… Fail… Fail…'

Her chain of thought was rudely interrupted by the cheering of the class, happy about the approaching ball.

*~*~*~*~*

__

"You are cordially invited to the funeral of Marigold and Richard Evans. The funeral will take place in Dublin, Ireland, this Sunday. The service will start at 2:30, and will end at 5:00. Please come dressed appropriately and on time."

Lily stared at the creamy, off-white, invitation. Had it not been for the black seal, she would have thought it was a wedding invite.

Though she knew her father had wanted to return to Ireland someday (his mother, Lily's Grandmother, had been Irish), she suspected that the location of the funeral was her sister's way of saying, "Don't come."

If her mother were there at that very moment, Lily was sure she would have said, "Lily, don't always think the worst of people."

Good advice, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped.

The portrait hole door suddenly swung open to reveal a tired looking James Potter, who immediately collapsed onto the couch.

Looking up, he said a weary, "Hi."

Seeing his disheveled state, Lily quirked a smile. "Did a bomb explode at quidditch practices?" she asked.

James chuckled, wiping his brow, "Does it look that way?" he asked. "Actually, Professor McGonagall attended practice and I lost all control of my team, as they tried desperately to show her how great they were."

Lily laughed. "I was just going over some plans on the Valentine's Day Ball," she said, discarding the letter and picking up her clipboard. "You should see the ideas the school comes up with. I think these are the most bizarre suggestions I've ever seen in my seven years here."

As was known to students, the Balls were open to suggestions by all years attending, and every year, around a week or two before the actual ball, the students would send in suggestions by the dozen. Prefects would read the suggestions and send the best ones to the Head Students.

"I read a few on my way back from practice," James answered, showing her his clipboard. "I hope you don't count the first sixteen regarding food. They're from Sirius."

Lily shook her head. "Two of them are from Peter, actually," she smiled. "His weren't as outrageous as Sirius's."

"No one's ideas are ever as outrageous as Sirius's," James replied. "You should know that by now."

*~*~*~*~*

Lily Evans was curled up in a chair next to the window, staring as the rain fell steadily outside, listening to the raindrops hit the windowpane. 

She remembered when she was a little child… about six, probably, when she had woken up from a nightmare, because of the thunderstorm outside.

__

"Daddy, the rain's scary," she had said. "And the wind. It's yelling at me."

Mr. Evans had been interrupted from his late-night reading by his little six-year-old daughter, who was looking up at him with big, round, eyes, clutching to her teddy bear tightly.

Smiling, he answered, "Honey, the rain's not scary. I think it's calming."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"You're wrong," the six-year-old insisted. "The rain's scary, the wind's mean, and the thunder's too loud."

As if to prove her point, a loud clap of thunder sounded. Terrified, Lily squealed and jumped into her father's lap.

Grimacing, she asked, "Is it over?"

Mr. Evans chuckled. "You know, thunderstorms aren't that terrible. Why, just look out the window and tell me what's so scary."

"No!" the stubborn little girl insisted. "The window's going to break, Daddy! Can't you hear that awful noise it's making? I'll fall out!"

"Come on," Mr. Evans said, picking her up. "Up you get."

"Daddy!" his daughter squealed. "Put me down!"

Mr. Evans laughed lightly, as she pounded at his back. Setting her down in front of the window (though she drew back a far as possible), he opened it.

"Hold out your hand," he said, guiding her hand out with his. 

"Daddy, it's wet," she had complained. "And cold."

"But there's nothing scary about it, is there?" Mr. Evans asked, as she held her hand out.

Lily Evans squinted her eyes. "Daddy, it's dark. That's scary, isn't it?"

Mr. Evans laughed again, though young Lily couldn't understand why. The dark was a perfectly good reason to be scared, wasn't it? Monsters and bats and… and witches could be hiding in the dark.

"Look up in the sky, honey," Mr. Evans said. "What do you see?"

"Stars, Daddy. But still…"

"That's right, Lily," Mr. Evans smiled. "Stars. And just think, each of those stars is carrying someone's deepest wish. Don't you think that's special? To be able to carry someone's secret dream?"

"I guess," Lily shrugged. "But it's still dark."

"But the stars are there to keep you company in the dark," Mr. Evans said. "And with them, somebody's dream. Maybe even some angels' dreams. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"I guess," Lily said reluctantly. "Oh, Daddy, you come up with the funniest stories."

Mildly surprised, her father asked, "What?"

"You don't think I actually believed you, did you?" Lily patted her father's back comfortingly. "Don't worry. Mommy says that I'm… ma…maturing, and you're afraid of losing me, so I'm supposed to… to… humor you. Am I right, Daddy?"

Mr. Evans laughed. "Go to sleep, tiger."

Lily smiled slightly. 

__

She had always tried to sound older than she really was, just because she liked the way her parents would laugh and smile, then say, "Oh, Lily, what are we going to do with you when you grow up?"

She'd always respond, "Oh, I won't. I'll never grow up. I'll go to Neverland with Peter Pan and Wendy, and I'll-"

"Wendy grew up, remember?" Mrs. Evans had _reminded her._

"Oh," Lily's brow had furrowed in thought. "Jane, then. I'll go with Jane."

Mr. Evans had laughed, overhearing the conversation on his way down from breakfast. Giving his wife a kiss on the cheek and taking his toast out of the toaster, he ruffled her hair. "Jane grew up as well, Tiger. They all grow up eventually."

"Besides," Mrs. Evans added, "We'd miss you far too much."

"Oh, phooey," Lily had plopped back onto the kitchen table. "But just for the record, I'm just staying 'cause you'd miss me. Don't think I couldn't do it. 'Cause I just might someday."

"Do what?" nine-year-old Petunia Evans had skipped into the kitchen.

"Fly," Lily said dreamily. "Really, don't you think it'd be wonderful, Petunia?"

Petunia had rolled her eyes. "Mrs. Larrimore says that you can't fly because of gravity," she said, grabbing her plate of pancakes. "Right, mum?"

"I don't know," Mrs. Evans sighed. "I think our Lily just might have enough will to go right out and do it."

Lily grinned at her sister, showing her two missing front teeth. (the "tooth fairy" hadn't left her money, since "she was broke". Instead, she had left a note saying that she should be glad, since the tooth would be "helping the Toothville people build their communities for the next generations")

"But if you tried, we'd try harder to keep you with us," Mr. Evans said, setting down his milk glass. Directing his speech at his wife, he said, "Delicious, dear."

"I told you I wouldn't go," Lily said. "Just 'cause you'd all be lost without me."

Lily sighed, leaning her head against the windowpane, listening to the rain continuing to fall.

*~*~*~*~*

Life was not going well.

Not for Lily Evans, not for James Potter.

No one, of course, knew the exact reason, as the three were surprisingly good at revealing naught but surface emotions, and a few words that were just for show, what other people expected them to say.

Really, Lily Evans _didn't_ feel as though she had lost the two most important people in her life, however true it was. James Potter wasn't devastated at the prospect of his mother's pending death.

James Potter had never been the best at revealing what he felt. Instead, he had been the best at hiding it. He wasn't just the laughing, joking, boy, nor the famed quidditch star, or the excellent student everyone perceived him to be. To know someone was to know them when they were a child, for that was when they truly a free spirit, untarnished by the woes and troubles of worrying constantly about tomorrow, unmarked by the presence of constant pressure. But few people had known James as a boy, so very few were able to figure out the mystery of James Potter. In fact, the few flashes of the core underneath the gilded surface were shone when he was flying, on his own, and with Lily Evans.

Lily Evans. A girl filled with so much passion for life, so much spirit, that she could make the emotionless James Potter _feel_. But she herself was not untouched by trouble, either. Rather than Lily Evans, the Head Girl, Lily Evans, top student, or Lily Evans, epitome of perfection, she was, simply, Lily. 

Lily. She did recall, once, as a student in finishing school, she had been embroidering her namesake on a pillow, but hadn't had the patience to carefully do stitch by stitch. In the end, she'd even left out the stems. She liked it better that way, she'd decided, the idea of being rooted, stuck in the mud, was too confining. 

To gild the lily was to perfect perfection, and Lily Evans had no desire to strive for perfection. James Potter had always been taught to reach for perfection.

What was the other saying? Oh, yes… Opposites attract.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi," Remus greeted.

Lily looked up from her clipboard and smiled. "Hi. I'm reading a few of the suggestions sent in from the students. Interesting and creative, though I highly doubt McGonagall will jump at the chance of dousing Sirius with love potions. A suggestion from one of the fifth years, I think."

"How's the planning coming along, by the way?" he prompted. "Inquiring minds want to know."

Lily reached for another clipboard. "Well, if you ask me, it'll be a pretty extravagant occasion, considering the fairies that'll be flitting around, blessing people and such. Two artificial brooks will be running from opposite sides of the Great Hall, ending in a little pond filled with carp and goldfish. In magical water, of course. There's some sort of cute little meaning behind it, I'm sure," she flipped through the clipboard. "Ah. It symbolizes the two different paths that love may take, ending in the same place. Sweet, really."

Remus laughed. "Betty Thomas spread a rumor that Dumbledore would be importing sixteen unicorns from Paris, three hundred doves from Venice, and eight hundred butterflies from Brazil. Please, separate the facts from the fiction."

"_Twenty_ six unicorns, and _eighty_ hundred butterflies," Lily corrected. "And we shall have an Eden. A waterfall, a maze of flowers and shrubs, and seventeen fountains. Fairies will be staying in the garden, so they'll be illuminating the place. Dumbledore really outdid himself this time."

"_Swing_ music," Remus's eyes twinkled, "will be featured. Do you, Miss Evans, know how to dance anything aside from the waltz?"

"Of course," she shrugged. "It was my choice. Your Head Boy decides the next one."

Remus sighed. "Two weeks to go before the Ball. Are you excited?"

"No," Lily answered, putting the clipboard back into its place. "If my appearance isn't required to open the dance, I don't believe I'll be going."

*~*~*~*~*

Her appearance was, apparently, required. Any prefect or Head was required to serve some time at the snack line, as one could not trust dozens of teenagers to wait for their food in a civilized manner. Chaos would break, food fights would ensue. So, each Head or prefect had to attend to the food.

Lily was less than happy.

"If I am not required to dance, I am required to wait on people?" she demanded. "What sort of rubbish is that?"

"The kind Hogwarts uses," Sirius answered happily. "With James and you on snack duty, I might be able to slip some of my potion in the Slytherin's plates after all!"

A glare from Lily silenced him. Deciding to switch to a safer subject, he asked, "So, Lillers, who's asked you to the Ball so far? Mind you, I can always go to the Hospital Wing to check your answer."

"None," Lily sniffed disdainfully. "I appear to give off a sense of… unapproachability to our fellow peers. Returning to the years as a wallflower, I am."

Sirius chuckled. "Not very likely. Flower you may be, Lily, m'dear, but a wallflower is not you. Otherwise you'd be named Ivy," he laughed at his own lame pun. "Somebody always plucks the flower from the stem prematurely when it's a lily."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lily asked sharply.

"Perfection is the first thing to go when it comes to life," Sirius answered.

"I'm not perfect," she said testily. "If that's what you're implying."

"Sure you aren't," Sirius agreed, lest he end up in the hospital due to some incurable, undiscovered, curse. Smoothly, he changed the topic, "So, what's for eating? At the ball, I mean."

*~*~*~*~*

Adele Windsor smiled contentedly, resting her head on the strong shoulder of James Potter.

He tensed a little, though he didn't object. Adele was his third date in the past few days, and he was already uncomfortable. It had been his father's doing, telling him of some business associate whose daughter attended school with him. _In Ravenclaw, my associate says, so she must have some mind of her own, as you wished._

Ravenclaw she may be, but James felt as though she wasn't the intellect-filled girl his father claimed she was. More like a blonde in disguise of a brunette.

Not that he'd ever had anything against blondes. His mother was, after all, blonde, and she'd been witty, sharp-tongued, and had conversation enough for everyone. But it seemed Hogwarts didn't have any of her sort there…

With, perhaps, the exception of a select few he had ever dated, though even they had paled in comparison to a certain lily…

Not that he'd ever want to date _her_. Lily Evans was, in short, not his type, much to the pleasure of his fan club. She was, as anyone could see plainly, the one girl he ever paid that much attention to. 

A few had thought that hating him might be why she received so much attention, so they, in turn, tried that. For a full week, James had had to endure nonstop taunting and teasing, and tempers everywhere. The plan had failed when a certain Lily Evans had not only laughed _at them_, but had also laughed _with him_. 

So the girls had to face the facts: James Potter would never pay as much attention to any other girl as Lily Evans.

James himself was so oblivious to all this that it only made him even more desirable, if that made any sense.

But then, mindless little Hufflepuffs chasing after James often _had_ no sense.

*~*~*~*~*

Evelyn looked in the mirror grimly as the Leslie and Bella crowded around her. "Lily, the verdict?"

They had been deciding which dresses were suitable for the Ball in the fine afternoon warmth (or as warm as it gets in early February) in the shop during their Hogsmeade weekend.

Lily glanced up from her chair in the corner of the small clothes shop. "Red," she noted observantly. "Satin. Accentuates the waist, thank goodness you have a small one… hourglass figure. Sleeveless, three-quarter length gloves… Black choker…" She nodded her approval.

"And me?" Bella demanded Lily's attention as she whirled around in front of the mirror. "What d'you think?"

"Too pink," she answered. "Try the crushed velvet. It makes you look thinner."

"What about me?" Leslie asked.

Before Lily could answer, the little bell that announced a visitor rang, and James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter walked in.

"And me, what about me!" Sirius squealed in a high, girly, falsetto. "Oh, fashionable Lily, what do you think? Do you think the color of my eyes will match the color of my socks? And the shoes! Double shine or Triple shine? I wouldn't want it to outshine the shine of my ever-so-shiny new watch! Oh, what tragedy that would be!"

He staggered back, pretending to weep. 

James joined him in the act, practically blubbering. "Oh, _no_, I just realized something," he said in a surprisingly accurate imitation of the high, peppy, squeals of the Hufflepuff girls. By then he and Sirius had been reduced to tears pouring out by the gallon. "I ordered the _black_ suit instead of the _dark black_ suit! How shall I ever go on! I think I'll die of embarrassment! And my watch! The numbers are on a _cream_ faceplate, instead of the _beige_ faceplate! Ack!"

He and Sirius doubled over crying… laughing, actually, with tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

Lily, apparently, was not amused. "Not funny," she crossed her arms.

"Oh, come _on_, don't be such a stick-in-the-mud," Sirius said, still in peals of laughter. "I'll be your best friend…"

Lily quirked a smile at the childish promise, while James punched him lightly on the shoulder. "I thought _I_ was your best friend," he complained. "Just because she has nice boo-"

"I trade loyalties," Sirius answered, grinning at James's near slip. "Like a _dog_."

Lily rolled her eyes and pushed the troupe out, James making a hasty, insincere apology, claiming it to be "male chauvinism" before Lily smacked him loudly and sent him on his way out.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Short chapter, but I couldn't think of too much. Don't forget to tell me your favorite chapter and least favorite chapters!!!!! Cookies and Snow Wars Parts I and II are in the lead for faves!!!!!!

To Come: More tête-à-têtes to come between Lily and James, and… that's it. Maybe more stuff with their friends, as well.


	20. Lazy Days and Saturdays

Chapter 20

(A/N) Hi! Note to one of my reviewers, **Wolf Moon:** You're sure I haven't said anything about Lily being a Seer? I could have sworn that I mentioned it in chapter 18, and a short reference to it in chapter 19. I didn't want the whole story to revolve around that one thing. But if you're sure I didn't… There'll be further mention of it in future chapters, I promise.

Eurgh, last chapter was choppy and blech, because I hadn't written in a month… more than that, almost two months. So I started this just two days after I uploaded the last one. Yay!

Disclaimer: I own the plot. "Can't Help Falling In Love With You," belongs to Elvis Presley.

*~*~*~*~*

__

"Wise men say only fools rush in,

But I can't help falling in love with you.

Shall I stay, would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you…"

Lily put the record to a stop as she sensed the entrance of someone else in the room.

"What, Potter?" she frowned. It had been the middle of the night, and she hadn't been able to sleep. Deciding even the Gryffindor Common Room wouldn't be safe from prying eyes, she had donned a bathrobe and walked over to the Heads' Common Room to think… or whatever. Suddenly aware of his bemused expression, she snapped, "What are you doing out of bed at this ungodly hour, anyway?"

James Potter grinned as he took a seat across from Lily in the Heads' Common Room. "Elvis," he said amusedly. "Elvis Presley."

Getting annoyed at his presence, she snapped, "Yes. My mother and father had an uncanny fondness for his music, enjoying it to no end. He was right up there on their list with Frank Sinatra."

"And… let me guess, you share the same uncanny fondness for it?" James smiled as Lily squirmed uncomfortably. He noted that she was wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe, perky pigtails, and bunny slippers. The sight was too amusing for him not to laugh.

Lily heard. Glaring at him, she said nonchalantly, "Yes, I am wearing fluffy, pink, bunny slippers. Christmas gift from my crazy Aunt Ellis. What of it?"

"Nothing," James suppressed another laugh, lest he made her angry. 

Lily sniffed haughtily. "You're _laughing_ at me," she accused. "I can see it in your eyes right now. Just because a person chooses to wear bunny slippers-"

"I'm _not_ laughing at you," James denied. Lily bristled. "I just find it slightly… amusing."

At this, he found his head a target for pillows.

*~*~*~*~*

"Good morning," Lily greeted her yawning friends as she worked on her embroidery. Wait… Lily Evans, _embroidery?_

Evelyn yawned, obviously not fully awake. "Lily, how on earth you can wake up so early is simply beyond me. If I can stay in bed all day, I'd stay in bed all day."

"Yes, and if your head weren't attached to your body, you'd lose it," Lily answered, frowning. "Now, up, up. It's the start of a brand new day!"

Evelyn shuddered and curled up in a tight ball as Lily threw off the bed sheets. "Wake _up_!" she shouted in her ear.

Bella groaned. "And this was the girl we couldn't get out of bed on Christmas Eve," she complained as Evelyn tried to hex Lily away (she succeeded in only conjuring her sheets out of the window) unsuccessfully.

"Well?" Lily asked expectantly. "Come _on, _up, up. We've a whole hour to snooze in Professor Binns' class. Now, _get up_!"

*~*~*~*~*

Indeed, Evelyn, Bella, and Leslie had a "whole hour to snooze in Professor Binns' class", as Lily had put it. 

Fortunately, lunch was after the class, to "revive their senses", Sirius had said. Quite right, he was.

James and Sirius had excused themselves from the table to discuss quidditch tactics for the next game against the Ravenclaw, one that would determine whether or not they made it to the Inter-house quidditch finals.

Evelyn and Bella had gobbled up their one course lunch consisting of salad, fat-free salad dressing, and mineral water, then rushed from the table to receive their dresses that had been delivered for the ball.

Thus leaving Lily, Leslie, Remus, and Peter to eat their lunches together.

"You _can't_ be serious," Leslie cried, her lunch forgotten. "I'm leaving the day after the ball? Well, that sucks."

"Language, dear," Lily replied cryptically, while placing a bread stick on Leslie's plate. "Eat."

Leslie pouted. "Oh, and I was getting used to this, too," she gestured towards Lily, who was taking a sip of water before attacking her with food ("You must have lost ten pounds since I saw you last!") again.

"Leslie, we still have two weeks before that," Lily answered, while shoving the bread in her friend's mouth. "Don't worry about the future in the present, or else you'll never enjoy the present."

"Don't get all philosophicablelical on me _now_," Leslie complained through bites.

"Philosophical," Lily corrected. "Come on, eat up. Quit dilly-dallying."

*~*~*~*~*

"_Like a river flows_

Surely to the sea,

Darling, so it goes, 

Some things are meant to be…" a breathy voice sang lowly in her ear.

"If I turn around, and you are there, James Potter, I will personally kill you," Lily answered, her eyes squinted closed.

James grinned. "Hey, my mother had the same strange little fondness for the song. If I had to endure listening to muggle sap playing on the records when she was home, I have the right to make fun of it."

"You, Mr. Potter, could be reported for such activities," Lily turned around, hands on her hips.

James's eyebrow raised in mockery. "And you would report me for…?"

Lily sighed. She could rattle a list of over ten things that was wrong with the picture at the moment, but why try? The boy was impossible; not an ounce of reason that trickled into his mind that wouldn't end up trickling out.

Instead of telling him off, she chose to sniff haughtily with an air of disdain and reply, "Mr. Potter, I do believe I should change my taste in music now."

James chuckled as she made a move to leave the gazebo. "Am I that spiteful?" he asked.

"Indeed," she answered. As they walked towards the school, she continued with fervor, "The very summer after I met you, I tried to convince my mother to throw out everything in the house that was associated with your name. You wouldn't believe how much money I made selling pottery at the garage sale we had that summer. Though I was still… a thousand off. My father grounded me for a long time. According to my calculations, I should be let off the hook in seven years."

"Really?" James laughed as they reached the portrait hole. "My interest is piqued."

"I suggest you un-pique it, then," Lily said crisply as they arrived at the common room. "As this conversation is clearly over. Good_night_."

With that, she gathered up her books and left the still laughing James Potter, not throwing a single glance behind.

While, on contrary, the several eyes on her were throwing _many_ glances, jealous glances, actually.

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning came in the form of fog, creeping over the rolling, large, hills that bordered the Forbidden Forest, forewarning foul weather to come. As the early morning mist settled in with the fog, creating a thick, smoky, screen, for anyone traveling in the forest, the students of Hogwarts began to wake.

A few, however, had beat the sun (which had decided it, too, was sleepy, and crawled back behind a cloud), to enjoy the outdoors before the forewarned weather could ruin their day.

Inside one little hut where a single, threadlike, ray of the sun, found its way through the window, and contented itself with the safe little sanctuary within the "ordinary" little hut, and fell back to sleep behind its cloud, a few bustling figures interrupted the sleepy little beginning of the new day and guaranteed it an exciting, or at least, youthful, spent time, of its short lived morning.

"G'dmornin', Lily," Hagrid greeted, whistling as he went about his work. "Jus' hammerin' a new box fer Snuffy."

Lily smiled, and gestured towards his red, blistered, fingers. "Worth the pain?"

"O' course!" Hagrid said, in a big, booming laugh. While continuing to hammer in nails (though he missed and hit his thumb a few times), he grunted, "Yeh see, Snuffy's growin', an' 'e needs a new home. O' course, I'd see ter it that li'l Snuffers gets what 'e's wantin', eh?"

Lily laughed, and at the same moment, the hut opened to reveal Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James.

"Morning, Hagrid!" Sirius cried cheerily. "How's Project Habitat going?"

Lily stared at him. "Project Habitat?"

"Sirius likes to give things names so he can use them for future reference," Remus sighed as he removed his scarf and placed it on the… unique coat rack, which, in place of hooks for hanging, were carved snakes, badgers, lions, and ravens, each head extended like a hook (A Christmas gift from Dumbledore his first year as gamekeeper). "Like the Marauders, that was all his idea."

"So, Lily, where are all your friends?" Peter asked tactlessly, as he looked around the room, as if expecting Evelyn to pop out of the toolbox suddenly. He edged away from the toolbox.

"Asleep," she laughed. "They don't wake up anytime before ten on weekends… I highly doubt they even know Saturday has a morning."

"So they should be up in…" Peter squinted, trying to do the math.

"Two hours," James supplied helpfully. "Yeah. Ten minus eight is two, Peter…"

"Oh!" Peter cried suddenly. "I get it! I think I learned this in primary school, but then mum wanted me to go and study some magical things. So, I said to her, 'But mum, all the other kids'll be ahead of me!' But _she_ said, 'Peter, you go there and study your little heart out, but when it comes to magic, you'll top 'em all!' _Well_, that sounded good at the time, but halfway through, in third year, she changed her mind when I chose to look up some mathematics for class, and said-"

"Peter," James interrupted impatiently. "Let's not get carried away, shall we?"

Peter nodded quickly and clamped his mouth shut, following the other four to Hagrid's workbench, acting fascinated with the monkey wrench ("Lily, what's this do? A monkey wrench? It wrenches _monkeys_? _Why_?").

Hagrid continued to whistle; though the swelling of his fingers was beginning to become alarming.

"Hagrid, are you sure your fingers are alright?" Lily asked.

"Sure, sure," he answered, still whistling as he continued to pound fairly hardly at the nails on the box. The box was now indented with missed hits by the hammer. "The pain's gone, by now. Yeh know, yeh shoulda ben 'ere a coupla hours ago, when it was _real_ bad, yeh, know. Now, I los' the feelin' in 'em, so, well, can't 'urt if yeh can' feel."

Sirius chuckled, raising a mug of coffee he had found by the workbench. "Cheers, Hagrid."

"Don' drink that-"

Too late. In five seconds, Sirius had gulped it all, and in five seconds, Sirius had spit it out with a look of extreme distaste on his face. "What _is_ that?" he asked incredulously, as he charmed his taste buds back into his mouth. "It tastes like wax and sand mixed with pepper."

"Eh, tar I use on me fingers when the swellin' stops."

*~*~*~*~*

"Today is a lazy day," Peter announced happily. They had left Hagrid's hut (each silently vowing never again to eat anything in the hut again) a while ago, and at the hint of foul weather later on, chose to take their time outside. "No homework, no quidditch, no tests… Living in the present, not worrying about the future."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, and we will return to reality in forty hours."

Peter stretched, dangling his legs over the bridge that ran across the Lake. "You know, we should have more days like this."

"Then you'd get bored of it," Remus answered. "And you'd want the hectic hassle of life back again."

"But not now," Peter smiled. "Today is the type of day where we can all sit back, relax-"

"Terrorize Evans's friends," James put in, as Evelyn, Bella, and Leslie approached them.

"Nah," Sirius joked. "I thought of it more as a 'get-yourself-high-on-lemonade' type of day."

"Is that possible?"

"_No_, Peter."

"Oh."

James chuckled and skipped a rock. Or tried to, at least, as it sank on the second skip.

"Ha," Lily said half-heartedly, "My rock would probably skip further than yours."

"No way," James shook his head.

"You wanna bet?" Lily asked childishly, not bothering to get up from her position at the edge of the bridge.

"Sure," James pulled her up and dragged her down right below the bridge (evoking a squeal from her) as their friends watched on with slight amusement. Cupping his hands, he yelled to their friends above, "Ladies and Gents, I present to you Hogwarts' first ever Rock Skipping Contest!"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Score to beat: two. Very easy," she said, as her rock skipped three times. She stuck her tongue out. "Anything you can do, I can do better."

"Ha! There's a laugh. I still have second round and third round and fourth round and…"

*~*~*~*~*

A few minutes later, the standings stood Potter: 2; Evans: 22.

"They are _so_ into each other," Evelyn announced in a bored manner as they watched their two friends below.

"They're in denial," Bella agreed, watching Lily squeal in protest as James created a large splash on both of them by deliberately sinking his next stone. "Just look at them."

"That, my dears, is clearly only in the minds of women," Sirius responded dryly. "Our friends are just, for once, acting their age, which may come _off_ as flirtation. Am I right, Moony, old pal?"

"Right you are, Padfoot, old chap," Remus nodded. "The two have decided to take a holiday from the pressures of life and travel back to the leisure and comfort of childhood. Consequently, they both chose, shall we say, the 'same vacation spot'."

Evelyn shrugged. "I say they're into each other. Besides, if your theory were right, it would prove that they think the same way, as well."

"How can you tell?" Peter asked crossly, not at all liking the direction this conversation was poised.

"Look at them!" Leslie gestured towards the two, who were, at that moment, laughing at some witticism said by James as Lily jokingly pushed him towards the water. "Can you _not_ see obvious I N T E R E S T E D signs flashing in their eyes?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Peter, not to fear, ol' buddy, we don't see it either. Clearly, these young ladies cannot see the fine line between love and hate. Let's define it for them, shall we?"

"Erm…"

"Right," Remus agreed, stretching lazily. "James, our close, personal, friend, has a reputation for sweeping girls off their feet. Lily, _your_ close, personal, friend, has a reputation for bringing gravity back to those girls. James likes to joke. Lily likes to study. James likes to prank on Lily. Lily likes to catch James in the act of pranking on her. James-"

"Is totally in love with her," Bella supplied the missing verb. "But, sadly, they're both in denial."

"Besides, opposites _do_ attract," Evelyn added. "And the two have a chemistry. Can't you tell?"

"Sorry, Padfoot, I must say, they do have a point," Remus shook his head. "Could our Prongs have… gasp, _feelings_ for the Miss Lily Evans?"

Sirius pretended to gag. "No, Moony, don't let them fool you with their trickery and feminine wiles ("Hey!" Leslie protested, ever the feminist). After all, without you, I just have Peter on my side!"

"And Gilderoy Lockhart," Remus pointed out.

"And Gilderoy Lockhart," Sirius added thoughtfully.

*~*~*~*~*

"For how long do you think they'll keep going before they find out that we're listening to them?" Lily whispered from her spot underneath the bridge, away from the prying eyes of their friends.

"Knowing Sirius, never," James answered. "If you ask me, I think this is by far the most interesting conversation they've had since their debate on whether or not that big cloud was a bunny or a chipmunk."

"Hey, Leslie had a good argument with the whole acorn looking thing," Lily said.

"Yeah, but Sirius was better, since that was too _long and skinny_ to be an acorn, so it had to be a carrot," James whispered back.

"They don't realize that clouds shift from time to time, do they?" Lily muffled a laugh.

James chuckled. "Whatever. If you ask me, I say it was a bunny."

"Well, then, I suppose you'd be wrong, then, wouldn't you?" Lily huffed. "As it is _clearly_ a chipmunk."

"Shhh… listen…" James placed a finger to his lips.

"… I mean, isn't it _obvious_ that they're _both _in denial? What with him kissing every girl to satisfy himself when we _all_ know that she's the best one for him, and her, chasing off ever potential suitor. It's obvious they're into each other."

"I wasn't aware that my secret affections for you were so obvious," James said sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah, and I _so_ want you," Lily scoffed. "Yes, I want you so badly that I might just succumb to temptation one of these days. My _secret_ temptations."

"I know," James answered. "But you'll have to wait in line."

The two rolled their eyes and continued to listen.

"… And what makes it even worse is that I think they both honestly don't see it. I mean, can you believe it? Something that's as plain as day… She's the best thing that's happened to him since he received his letter to Hogwarts!"

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that…" James muttered.

"Whoa, whoa, _wait_," Sirius's voice sounded. "Hey, it's not like James is so terrible, either. I mean, without him, Lily would be studying in her dorm instead of shrieking down below us and _living_ for once."

"Come to think of it, where are they?"

"That would be our cue, Miss Evans," James grinned.

*~*~*~*~*

A few minutes later, the sleepy air began to lift and come to life as a slight drizzle began to form a sleet. Of the few students who had wandered away from the safe haven of the warm school, nine of them were in an upset over who-knows-what.

"That wasn't _funny_," Evelyn insisted, crossing her arms as Sirius's towering figure held an umbrella to shelter her from the developing sleet.

"Yes it was," Lily said simply. "You should have heard yourselves. I mean, honestly, do you _listen_ to yourself when you speak?"

"Lily, you better conjure yourself an umbrella," Leslie frowned. "You don't want to catch a cold, do you?"

Lily laughed. "I _love_ this weather! Gray and drab, to be sure, but it's _refreshing_!"

"To think, this was the girl who was patronizing me and admonishing us to get out of bed this morning," Bella tsked. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Lily, a person would think that you'd have much more sense than to prance around in the rain."

Lily stopped, not out of surprise, but, rather, out of glee. "Bella, you need to _enjoy_ life! Enjoy your youth while you _are_ a youth!" she added hastily, "Most people don't, you know."

"Yes, ' 'tis true, 'tis pity, 'tis pity 'tis 'tis true," James agreed.

Lily glared at him. "You're _quoting_," she accused. "Shakespeare. Out of context. Hmm."

"It seemed like a proper moment," James said truthfully. "What's wrong with Shakespeare?"

"Nothing," Lily answered decidedly. "You're just getting on my nerves."

"That's my life's goal, Miss Evans," James whispered in her ear.

Lily batted him away. "You smell like rain."

"So do you. Besides, you _like_ rain, remember?"

Their friends exchanged knowing glances.

*~*~*~*~*

By the time it was ten, the rain had already turned into a steady snow, dashing everyone's hopes of a day outdoors, as few had woken up early enough to enjoy the… early morning rain.

Thus, sprawled in random positions over the Gryffindor Common Room, the Gryffindors, years three through seven (first and second decided to go to the library), were left to use their own resources to find something interesting to do.

"Lily…" Evelyn whined. "This muggle puzzle you got me for Christmas… it's not working."

Lily raised a brow. "Evie, dear, I gave you that for Christmas _three years ago_, and you're telling me it's not working… now?"

The three hundred, eighty-six piece puzzle was laid out in front of Evelyn, Bella, and Leslie, nowhere _near_ completion. It was a three-dimensional puzzle of the Eiffel Tower, which Lily had gotten in France during winter holidays in fourth year and owled over for Christmas. Funny, how it had all but disappeared from their view until then.

Evelyn sighed helplessly. "Li_ly_! This darned muggle contraption… I laid it out nice and politely, and it does nothing!"

"That's because you're supposed to do the puzzle yourself," Lily laughed. "You know… that's the whole concept of a puzzle."

"But in magical puzzles, they assemble themselves if you ask them nicely," Bella interjected.

"And, that, my friends, is why witches and wizards are _lazy_," Lily smiled. "Puzzles were created to test your cognitive skills. Not your etiquette skills of asking politely."

Leslie smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

Lily rolled her eyes and continued her embroidery.

Sirius frowned at a crossword puzzle. "Lily, what's a five letter word for stupid that begins with 'i' and ends with 'e'?"

"Inane," Lily answered from across the room.

James sighed and read over Sirius's shoulder, bored with the latest issue of _The Daily Prophet_. "Eh… Sunday's yesterday's tomorrow's three days ago's fortnight and four days ahead."

"_What_?" Sirius asked, puzzled.

"They want you to figure out what day of the week it'll be," Remus answered.

Peter glanced up from his math textbook and took the time to answer, "Monday."

"Remus, how does he do that?" Sirius demanded. Remus shrugged. "James, how does he do that?"

"Beats me," James shrugged. "He's allergic to practically everything, has every common phobia, then a few uncommon ones, can't get muggle mathematics, and yet he's the third best at chess in the _school_, and can figure _that_ out in seconds."

"Isn't there a word for that?" Sirius frowned. "A mentally defective person with an exceptional skill or talent in a special field, two words, eleven letters?"

"You didn't come up with that definition, did you?" Lily asked, walking over.

"No, of course not," Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's a word in the crossword puzzle, and I thought it might apply to our friend Petey."

Lily let out a sound that sounded like a cross between a groan and a laugh. "Idiot savant, Sirius. And Peter's _not_ an idiot savant; he's not autistic."

Sirius let out a cough that sounded vaguely like, "Know-it-all," before penciling it in.

From another corner of the room, Evelyn sighed at what they had accomplished.

"There," she put in another puzzle piece. "It _sort_ of looks like the Eiffel Tower now, right guys? Guys?"

Bella let out a muffled groan and decided that a crossword puzzle would be less agonizing as a three-dimensional puzzle of the Eiffel Tower.

Leslie, similarly, decided that the Eiffel Tower was an evil, evil, structure, and why did they have to have a tower, anyway? She, too, abandoned Evelyn and joined the group solving a crossword puzzle.

*~*~*~*~*

About five hours later, with empty stomachs (due to the growing snowstorm, a few third years with bottled up excitement had pranked the kitchens, and lunch had been canceled since several house-elves in charge of cooking had been too disturbed from the interruption and hadn't been able to cook) and only half a crossword puzzle done to show for it, they quickly dropped the crossword puzzle at the sight in Lily's hands.

"Alright, people, hot, piping, cookies, straight from the oven," she announced.

So _that_ was where the Head Girl had disappeared to for three hours.

"Cookies!" Sirius cried gleefully, beating a few third years out of the way ("Out of my way, munchkins! Those cookies are mine, mine, all _mine_!").

James rolled his eyes as he watched his friend tackle Lily to the ground (in a hug) and inhale (sort of) three of the cookies into his mouth.

He couldn't be _that_ hungry… it was only two o' clock. Alright, so Sirius went crazy without food for more than three hours, so perhaps he _was_ that hungry.

Lily let out a muffled groan. "For that, Sirius, you get none of the other food I salvaged from the kitchens."

Sirius gave an indignant cry. "You- you- you…? _No_! You wouldn't do that to me, would you? You would? _No_! Woe is me, woe is me!"

Lily extracted herself from Sirius's grip ("Gerroff me, you prat!") and brushed the cookie crumbs off her hands as she set the other trays on the table.

*~*~*~*~*

About an hour later (when the cookies and their crumbs were devoured), the snowstorm qualified as a blizzard. And the conversation wasn't much.

"I wonder if fish have ears…"

"Sirius!" Evelyn rolled her eyes. "_Please_ shut up!"

Sirius ignored her as he popped a cookie crumb from his cookie crumb stash in his mouth (he had decided reducing the cookies to crumbs would make them last longer), and continued. "I mean, can you _hear_ under water? And even if you could, I mean, for a little bitty fish, would it _matter_? They can't talk or anything. Or _can_ they?"

Lily groaned.

For the past hour, they had endured these mindless, pointless, questions, such as, "If an eraser could speak, what do you think it'd say?" or "Hey… can germs and parasites _think_?" which led to, "If a parasite _can_ think, would the host think the same thing? Or would the _parasite_ think the same thing as the _host_? _Or_ can they both think _separate_ thoughts?" which soon was dropped and changed to, "How do _we_ think if we're composed of so many individual cells? Do the cells _make up_ thoughts? Or do thoughts just come from our brain… which is _made up of cells_… huh?" which became "What's the difference between your brain and your mind? Is your mind something in your subconscious?" which became "_Where_ is your subconscious?"

Goodness, the boy asked too many questions. Everyone shuddered to think what he'd been like at that five-year-old stage of constant questioning.

"Sirius… on behalf of everyone in the room… shut _up_," James said as he hit his head on the chessboard. (He had been playing himself and had been losing terribly on both sides)

"Maybe only fellow _fish_ can hear them," Sirius wondered aloud. "Or _maybe_ they're like merpeople, and they-"

"Sirius, shut _up_!"

Sirius glared at Leslie moodily as he stuffed some cookie crumbs into his mouth. He opened his mouth again to speak, starting with an, "I wonder if-"

"_Shut up, Sirius_," the entire group yelled, giving second years a display of seventh year behavior patterns.

The exhibit left many second years scarred with the thought of what would become of them in five years.

*~*~*~*~*

By the time it was five in the afternoon, the common room was completely dead of the livelihood so usually provided by the students.

"Lily, what're you doing?" Evelyn asked in a bored, I-really-don't-actually-care-but-tell-me-anyway manner.

"Writing a letter to my Great Aunt," Lily replied. "She wanted to know how I was coping and how I was doing."

"Tell her you're dying of boredom," Bella supplied helpfully.

"She's not the type of person that would appreciate that type of humor," Lily answered blandly. "Your remember my Great Aunt, the one you met over the summer?"

"The crazy one?" Remus wrinkled his brow.

"No, that's my _aunt_, on my father's side, Ellis. This is the rich one, on my mother's side," Lily answered. Fluttering her eyelashes and acting dramatically, she continued, "Great Aunt Liatria is of fine, aristocratic lineage, and never, for one day in her life, let anyone in our family forget it. She was _devastated_ in finding that her sister had actually _allowed_ her daughter to marry such riff-raff as Richard Evans, and decided to take matters in her own hand by supplying her niece's children with the proper breeding of a _Corollari_, _not_ an Evans."

Evelyn, who had heard the speech many, many, _many_, times, continued, "Thus, she began teaching her niece's daughters _proper_, _lady-like_ things, like how to play the proper musical instruments-"

"Such as the violin, piano, flute, and harp," Bella added.

"And the proper, lady-like, hobbies of-"

"Tennis, embroidery, singing, ballroom dancing, and horse-back riding," Bella supplied.

"And, of course, the proper basic, day-to-day things a young lady of today as well as last century should know-"

"Writing a letter, shopping for gifts, spending money, saving money, calculating how to tip the servants, memorizing poems, verses, and lines, choosing gowns, choosing _suitors_, and establishing oneself a place in the Corollari family tree," Lily, Evelyn, and Bella finished together.

Lily shook her head laughing. "Goodness, she's a real headcase, I tell you. Petunia learned it all and then she forgot it all, so she positively _stamped_ it all into my mind as to not let the same thing happen to me. I remember her throwing a _fit_ when my father taught me the improper, _un-lady-like_ musical instrument, the harmonica. She had another fit when my parents let me come _here_."

"She and my father would get along pretty well, I should think," James remarked dryly, stretching his long, cramped, legs out from the couch.

Lily shook her head. "She'd be disgusted by how I behave and act around here. I can hear her now… _Lily, _what_ on earth is _that_ doing in your room? A contemporary book? You _know_ what I think about those filth-writing contemporary authors. And where on earth is your edition of Emily Post's Etiquette? I had hoped to find it positively _falling apart_ from readings… not that you _should_, considering I taught you the proper caring of a book, and- what is _this_? A picture of you and your friends? _What_ did I tell you about personal items on your desk, Lily? As flattering as it is for your friends to see that picture, you wouldn't want to seem unprofessional to your fellow peers, would you? Why, they'd lose all respect for you!"_

"I remember her!" Remus shot up from his seat suddenly. "Yeah, I met her over the summer when…"

"Eurgh, my debut," Lily gagged. "Sorry I had to put you through that, Remus, but you should have seen who she'd have had to be my date… _blech,_ it was a carbon copy of Potter."

"Hey!" James protested. "What's wrong with me?"

"Do you _really_ want to know?" Lily asked as she continued to write. "Because I _could_ tell you, but then I'd have to write it all down, since I'd get a hoarse throat the next morning from speaking so much."

"Not funny," James answered sulkily. "I'll have you know, that was a major blow to my ego."

"It could use some deflating," Lily answered crisply. "Besides, you never took my insults to heart before."

"Mean."

Lily shrugged and waved her finished letter in the air to dry the ink. "Whatever you say, kiddo."

"_Kiddo_?" James asked. "I'm _older_ than you are!"

"But you don't act it, now, do you?" Lily smiled as she sealed the envelope. Turning her attention back to her letter, she shook her head as she looked out the window and said, "I suppose I'll have to wait till the weather lets out to mail this."

Evelyn sighed heavily. "There _must_ be something to do!"

Lily shrugged. "Good luck finding it. I, personally, can't stand sitting around here and listening to Sirius _breathe_ for another minute. I'm off to my dorm to go over the Valentine's Day plans."

"I'll join you," James stood up as well.

"In my _dorm_?" Lily raised an eyebrow. She remembered vaguely that the last time James Potter had been in her dorm was with his friends, in third year, as they prepared a prank. She, Evelyn, and Bella had all woken up to find all their uniforms and clothes missing, the bathroom walls smeared with toothpaste and some other sort of pasty-like substance that would swell up the skin in a big bubble and explode (she found out later it was a cream middle-age witches used on their faces to rid themselves of wrinkles, acne and zits for younger witches, and warts on older witches. It had an odd reaction when applied to areas of skin where it was unnecessary; in place of the popped bubble, acne would appear, on top of the acne, a large zit with a wart on it, wrinkles and folds all over the wart and zit.). 

"Sure, why not?" James shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Lily turned the other direction, towards the portrait hole. "If _you_ insist on tagging along, _we_ will be going to the _library_."

"Easy on the italics, there, Evans."

Lily glared and turned on her heel.

James shrugged at his friends and followed the Head Girl out of the Common Room.

*~*~*~*~*

"You _have_ to be kidding me," Lily said finally.

"_You_ have to be kidding me," James retaliated. "This is a good idea!" 

"_Quidditch players _getting their own dance?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, but it shouldn't matter how far up the social ladder you are; popularity isn't something we factor in when there's a dance."

James glared. "It's _not_ a matter of popularity or social status, it's the fact that all the quidditch teams of every house has worked extremely hard, and they should get some… recognition."

Lily raised her eyebrow again, drilling her fingers against the clipboard. "You mean the entire school showing up at quidditch matches, having your own _fan club_, being idolized and lionized, and having your name go down on a plaque in the trophy _room_ isn't enough recognition?"

"The quidditch teams are the second hardest working groups in the school, if you count the prefects, who, I might add, not only get their own dance, also get their own _ball_. So what's one measly little song that the rest of the students have to sit out on so their hardworking quidditch players can enjoy the fruits of their labor?"

Lily stared at him, he who was currently tapping his quill against his chin in thought, and leaning on the back legs of his chair. James Potter was persuasive, she would give him that, possibly how he had managed to negotiate his eighty-five percent Charms essay grade to a full two-hundred. And, she had to admit, his points were good ones… But then, the yearbook committee, the House newspaper crews, and the House band would want their own dance or "special recognition". It wasn't a matter of treating everyone deserving specially; it was a matter of treating everyone equally.

"And that, Miss Evans, is how communism started," James answered dryly, upon hearing her rebuttal.

"I wasn't speaking of _possessions_, I meant _people_, there's a difference," Lily answered. Of her seven years at Hogwarts, James Potter had been continually sarcastic, rude, and disrespectful towards her. It was getting annoying. Very, very, _very_ annoying. "Perhaps, using your example of quidditch, as the Slytherins have worked _so_ much harder than all the other teams, _they_ should have _their_ own dance?"

James glared at her. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what, exactly? If you ask me, I'm being perfectly normal… So it's _very_ difficult to decide why I do what when I don't know what is," Lily drummed her carefully French manicured nails along the edge of the table. "What is it that I… _do_?"

"_That_. You try so hard to make my life miserable, I think it's making _you_ miserable as well," James said thoughtfully as he observed her. She didn't like it. He was giving her a piercing stare- the kind that no one calls a piercing stare because it's not a piercing stare until they find themselves under it- as if he were trying to see the back of her skull. "Why _do_ you go out of your way to make my life miserable, anyway? In the past few years, you've repeatedly stated that I'm not even _worth_ the breath it takes to tell me I'm not worth the breath. So why does it matter, anyway? You know, I can be very enjoyable company. Compatible, for many people, in fact. So why do you do that? Why… do… you… hate… me?"

During his speech, he had been leaning dangerously close, a little too close. Goodness, being in such close quarters with that boy was enough to make a person an extreme claustrophobic. 

Lily stopped leaning back and stared back coldly. "I dislike you for obvious reasons," she said, as she stood up from her chair and gathered her books. "You're rude. You're sarcastic. You've shown disrespect to teachers and peers. You have an extreme disregard for all the rules. I find the manner you treat girls demeaning. You are an idiot. You have yet to prove my accusation wrong."

She pushed her chair back in its place and walked out of the library.

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N): You didn't _really_ think Lily would hold a grudge against James just because of a stupid prank, did you? She has better things to do with her time than brood over how a prank seven years ago ruined all admiration for James Potter.

__

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was GREAT!!!! But, you know, I think that though Tom Riddle looked the part, he also looked a little like what the younger James Potter should have looked like. Not especially good looking, but not really hard to look at, either.

To Come: Who cares? I was considering abandoning this fic, since it was taking so long, but I decided not to; I like the plot, and have become attached to the characters. But once I finish this (in fifteen to twenty-five chapters, to make a guess…), I'm taking a break from writing and I'll just be reading… unless, oh, the horror, PLOT BUNNIES ATTACK! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! O_kay_. Weird moment. 

To Come: (the other one got a little too crazy) Amazing Grace, a funeral, and the return of Gilderoy Lockhart… _What_ will happen????? The funeral will actually probably start around two or three chapters later, but Gilderoy will definitely be there, and the Ball will take place a few chapters after the funeral. 

And…

Favorite chapter to date? *Cringe, Least Favorite chapter to date? Don't forget to tell me in your reviews! Please r/r!!!


	21. Beauty and Her Eyes

Chapter 21

(A/N) Thanks for the reviews! A note to a reviewer,

****

Evil Panda: Sorry, if you're bothered by how lightly Lily is taking the death of her parents. (I'm sure you aren't the only one wondering) 

Lily actually is more bothered by it than she shows, you'll find out in later chapters. She's just holding up a cheery façade so that her friends and students that look up to her won't think of her as weak. Eventually, that mask collapses, but not yet. She's stronger than that.

I notice no one questioned James's ethics regarding his dying mother… I wonder why…

****

Note to everyone else: I know, I know, it's getting boring! And believe me, I'm working on this the best I can! But you know those long, bridge chapters we all have to endure? Consider this a _really_ long bridge. Next chapter's funeral, anyway. Going up the hill, right now. After that, we climb the mountain. Quite literally, you'll find, later on.

Disclaimer: I own the plot.

*~*~*~*~*

"Snow is nice, isn't it?"

Lily smiled in spite of herself as she sensed someone's presence behind her. "Sirius…" she turned around, flipping her scarf. "What are you doing out here?"

Sirius grinned cockily as he moved from the doorway and took a seat next to her. "Well…" he paused to brush the light dash of snow accumulating on his head. "Peter is trying his hand at muggle mathematics again, Remus sulking in the Common Room, Bella is showing all the other girls her showcase of nail polishes, and James is _thinking._"

"_Thinking_?" she feigned surprise. "My, my, we have a problem. Pray do tell, Oh, Great One, what does that have to do with your being out here?" Lily moved toward the rail of the balcony, watching the snow steadily fall from her new position.

"Two things, fairest lily," Sirius held up two fingers for emphasis, joining her at the rail. "One, how _do_ nail polish companies with names like 'Pretty in Pink' and 'Lovely in Lilac' sell, and two, what thought-provoking conversation did you and Prongsy have in the library?"

"Is that it?" Lily raised a delicately arched brow at him, as she idly traced the path of one particular snowflake with her finger. "One, I don't know the sales tactics of the nail polish companies, two, it was nothing out of the ordinary."

"And what, pray tell, is the ordinary?" Sirius asked, watching her with interest.

Lily waved her hand distractedly. "Not that it's anything of your concern, but I called your favorite Head Boy an idiot." She blew at one particular snowflake drifting in her direction, watching it. "Anything else?"

Sirius straightened, leaning against the rail. Looking down, he remarked, "It's a long way down."

"Well, that's a very cynical outlook on things," she replied. Glancing up at a dark, velvety sky, pinpricks of light among the seemingly endless fall of snow, she murmured, "It's a long way up."

Sirius chuckled, looking up. "Yes, it is," he said unnecessarily. After a pause, he murmured, "Really beautiful, though."

Lily smiled. "It is, isn't it?" she tilted her head toward the sky. "It's funny, life. How it can have such beautiful, brilliant, amazing things like this, and still have utterly horrible, terrifying moments pass us. It makes me wonder… are there really such things as destiny and fate? I mean, can there really just be a blueprint for life, where everything is predetermined and we're just… here?"

"I don't know if that's for us to know, Lily," Sirius murmured, casting a glance at her. She was still looking at the stars, a few snowflakes falling in her hair and on her nose all the while. She seemed… _ethereal_. "Destiny and fate… maybe they're just excuses people make when things don't go their way, or maybe there really is some unknown blueprint for everyone's life, and everything happens for a reason."

She met his eyes with a slight twinkle in her own. "Serendipity, Sirius?" A few of the flakes fell off her nose and scarf. "I didn't realize you were such a philosopher at heart."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," he murmured, looking back up at the star-studded sky.

*~*~*~*~*

"Remus, am I an idiot?"

Remus looked up from his copy of _Witch Weekly_ he had borrowed from Bella, as he had grown tired of the repetition of articles of muggle killings and the rise of the "Dark Lord" in the_ Daily Prophet_. At the moment, he had been reading an article on the basics of hair care and beauty products.

"James…" he turned to face his friend. "Are you actually serious?"

James shrugged and picked up the discarded _Daily Prophet_, flipped past the first three pages on muggle terrorizing, and reached the section on garden gnome control, astrology readings, and the daily crossword puzzle. "Absolutely. Have I ever acted in a slightly idiotic manner in the past thirteen years I've been in your acquaintance?"

"Sure," Remus turned to the next page of the magazine. "There was that time, when my father brought me over when we were six, and you turned my cousin into a toad. Then, there was the time when we were eight and you tossed Mr. Finklestein into one of your fountains from the roof, just to see if he'd land on his feet. And, of course, there's all the times you've teased, tortured, and tormented Snape for no legitimate reason."

James frowned, looking up from an article entitled, "Where Have All the Garden Gnomes Gone?" and replied, "The incident involving your cousin was completely unintentional; besides, he was asking for it; when I tossed your aunt's cat off the roof, I was going through my childhood curiosity phase, and the cat left without a scratch anyway, and I _do_ have a legitimate reason to torment Snape… it is my duty as Head Boy to patrol the halls of he school and dictate punishment to those who have shown constant student mistreatment and disrespect." He returned to the article, adding, "So all the above listed events are therefore discounted as they have complete legitimate reasoning behind them _all_."

Remus let a chuckle escape his lips. "Fine. Consider Sirius, then-"

"You're comparing me to _that_ mental case?"

Remus shrugged. "It seemed like an appropriate analogy for the moment," he said, before continuing, "Consider Sirius, James. He's an idiot, acts like he needs to be committed, pronto, but he's actually an extremely intelligent individual with more depth in character than we'll ever know. Then, you have Lily, who seems calm, cool, collected, and conservative on the outside, but somewhere under her cold exterior is a bubbling seventeen year old girl with more enthusiasm and brains than possibly the entire year put together. And of course, there's Peter. He's a little clumsy, blunders around a bit, and not that articulate, but deep down, he's got more understanding in human morality than most professors here, albeit he's not that great at math, but he's still good at something extremely useful. So really, there's a surface exterior of everyone, which is how they act in public, then there's the inside, which is how they act in private."

"So, what are you saying, that I have an alter-ego?" James frowned.

"Something like that," Remus nodded. "What I'm saying is that you feel like you need to live up to certain standards and expectations everyone has set for you, which is why you act in a way that a few certain individuals may perceive as… idiotic. Lily's words, I'm guessing?"

"Right," James grumbled. As an after statement, he added, "If Peter's an excellent human moralist, he's still got nothing on your psychology skills, Remus."

"Thanks," Remus murmured, flipping to the next page of the magazine.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily sighed, staring at her trunk. The funeral was in a mere two days, and still the feeling had yet to register to her. People had always said that it would never get any easier.

She pondered this statement. Was it true? If it was… She didn't feel as affected. It _was_ getting easier, she had realized. She was beginning to enjoy life again. She could pass a day without wanting to break down and cry. Should she feel guilty? She had asked this question to herself many times. And still, she had received no answer.

Deciding that staying in her room wouldn't help matters, she lit a thin taper, donned her bathrobe, and walked into the Common Room. As she took a seat on the couch before the fireplace, she noted that the fire was still on.

__

Who on Earth leaves fires going at midnight? She wondered.

The fire flared in response, laughing, dancing, mocking at her, similarly to a lion would its prey. _Lucky for me, Dumbledore does_, it seemed to respond. 

Resting her chin on her palm, she frowned. Talking fire? That was certainly out of the ordinary, even in the magical world.

__

Never heard of the expression, 'spitting fire'? It began to die down. As it reached the hot coals at the bottom, it flared up again. _You know, Evans, you should be going. Midnight doesn't like intruders. Neither do I._

Lily stared intently at the fire. It wasn't alive, and yet she appeared to be holding a conversation with it, however one-sided it was. How strange.

__

Alive? It seemed to ask. _My existence can be described as life, can't it? I am given a life, however short-lived, and I eventually die, only to be replaced by another._

Paranoia, she told herself. _I have finally submitted to my paranoia. What else would explain this?_

The fire danced before her, darting back and forth, tongues of flame flitting in front. _Many things_, it told her. _But why bother? You have convinced yourself that I am your mere imagination anyway. You know, we're very much alike, Lily._

Giving up on ignoring it, she murmured aloud, "How?"

__

Well, the fire died down again, as if in thought. _We can both flare up at any given moment, due to our…for lack of a better word, fiery personality. I can provide a safe haven and comfort for some, and at the same while, be a force of destruction to others. It's not the potential, Lily; it's the decision of what you do with it that makes all the difference._

I don't want_ to be a force of destruction_, she found herself thinking.

__

What about me? The fire seemed to be hurt. _Have you ever thought of how _I_ feel about it? Perhaps I overestimate you, Lily. You're more like a firecracker than an actual fire. Everybody in awe of your brief, yet brilliant, light, that you don't even notice that you slowly consume yourself into nothing._

It playfully darted before her. _Or Vesta, with her sacred, eternal fire. Made eternal by others._

"Hardly," she said aloud.

__

No? You're right; you hardly have the makings of a goddess, much less a goddess of hearth. Too flighty. So if not that, perhaps you are a simple candle fire, your life bringing light and hope to other lives, while your own life depends on them, depending on if they keep your light steady and shining, or if they choose to blow out your flame before you can do any good. And all the while, you slowly burn yourself down. Rather gloomy, isn't it?

She decided that the fire must be a very cynical being.

And the fire accordingly responded, _Cynical? Perhaps I am. But what else can one in my position be, when their life rests in someone else's decisions? _

Make the best of it, she thought to herself.

__

Do you truly believe that? The fire paused, as if waiting for her answer. After a short while, it resumed its darting. _Well, Lily, I have given you my suppositions as to which you are, and have come to the conclusion that you are neither fire, nor firecracker, nor goddess, nor candle. Who are you, then? Self-evaluation has always been a good judge of character, in my opinion._

Who are you_?_ She asked.

__

Me? I am nobody, who are you? Are you nobody too? Then there's two of us- don't tell! _They'd banish us, you know, _it replied, as if laughing at her again.

"How dreary to be somebody," Lily recited aloud. "How public, like a frog. To tell you name the livelong day, to an admiring bog. Dickinson."

__

Out of this silence I picked a welcome; and in the modesty of this fearful duty, I read as much from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.

I never realized fire could be so well read, she thought, as somewhere in the North Tower, the old grandfather clock chimed in the midnight hour.

As if on cue, the fire seemed to whisper, _Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania._

"A preference for Shakespeare?" Lily murmured, as the fire flickered slowly. It was dying, she had noted. It was no longer flaring in a playful, lively, manner, rather, it was flickering on and off like a lamp with an indecisive owner. 

__

Merry and tragical! Tedious and brief! That is, hot ice and wonderous strange snow. For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it, the fire seemed to rasp out, as the glowing embers which fueled the fire turned a deep red, a glowing orange, slowly being smothered by its own ashes.

And thus, the night ended.

*~*~*~*~*

As the overcast sky turned from a velvety blue to a dull gray, snow covering the grounds a blinding, dazzling white, Lily Evans stood at the frozen lake site, her arms wrapped around her in a feeble attempt to keep the cold out.

The snowstorm hadn't ended; rather, it had slowed. Indeed, as she stood there, feeling her toes freeze off all the while, a few solitary flakes were still drifting down from the seemingly endless gray sky above. She let her mind wander and found herself wondering what it'd be like to be one of those snowflakes drifting downwards.

Digging the tip of her shoe into the snow, she wondered if it would be lonely, plummeting downwards in the great, vast sky, just a few others drifting along as company, or if it would be exhilarating, the long drop from the sky to the ground. Maybe it would be an unhappy journey, not knowing whether or not one would melt upon impact or be separated from the other billions of white specks along the way. 

A few of the snowflakes fell upon the frozen surface of the lake, and she could almost hear the soft, padded, sound it made as it hit the hard, cold ice. 

Her situation was a different one from that of most people, that much she would owe up. Different, like every crystalline flake drifting downward, not a single one being exactly alike. Or at least, that was what she had been told. But had every snowflake been examined and compared? What if one single snowflake had the exact same design, texture, size, and shape as one crafted centuries ago? What if her own life was parallel to that of someone who had lived before her? Or, perhaps, even after her?

Questions she would probably never receive an answer to.

Her eyes resting back on the lake, she noticed a single swan in the center, waddling back and forth in the little water left which hadn't been frozen along with the rest. It was stranded, she realized, unable to fly with the rest of the flock to warmer places, abandoned and left alone.

She wondered vaguely why no one else had noticed this poor bird. It was obviously in distress, its wings flapping occasionally, as if in a desperate attempt to attract some attention of some Good Samaritan for help.

It was the flapping that had caught her notice, and it was the flapping which had drew her attention the left wing of the swan. It was broken. The feathers were ruffled, and it flopped a little as it came up and down.

She felt for the swan; it was how she felt. Abandoned, lonely, hurt, and… helpless. Brandishing the wand in the pocket of her sweater, she pointed the tip at the bird and murmured, "_Sano osum._" It let out a loud honk and ruffled its feathers, but showed no other sign of healing. Rather, it continued to waddle back and forth in a distressed manner.

Deciding that it must not realize its ability to fly, she whispered,"_Wingardium Leviosa_." The swan let out another honk as it was lifted from the lake and spread out its wings, flapping rapidly, holding itself in the air. "_Consummatio Devotionis._"

The charm removed, she watched as the swan left the small patch of thawed ice and flew above the Forbidden Forest and out of her sight. 

A feeling caught in her throat- what was it, pride? For a _swan_? 

Sighing, she watched her own breath vaporize. Stranger things had happened.

*~*~*~*~*

James frowned, looking out the window.

She was still out there. Evans, that was. She had been outside before breakfast, it appeared, and she hadn't ever bothered to come in, not even when the storm picked up its speed again, carrying out its duty with a vengeance. Greenhouse Number Eight, used only by seventh years and staff, located in the deep, grassy, crevice, apart from the other greenhouses, had already been buried six feet under the snow. 

His view of his fellow head student standing in the snow was obstructed when, seemingly out of nowhere, a flurry of brown hit the window. Opening it, he found the brown flurry of feathers curled in a tight ball was his mother's owl, Titan. 

Taking the little fellow by the one talon protruding out of the tight ball, James shut the window and set the owl in front of the fireplace in half amazement, half amusement. Indeed, the situation might be funnier had Titan not appeared so deathly ill. The owl popped one eye open and squawked in terror.

James had an odd feeling this was due to the "experimenting" he and Sirius had performed on Titan over the summer, with a few test prank spells intended for use on Snape and various other vile beings encountered during the school year.

Too weak to fly away, in another flurry of feathers, Titan still made a brave attempt, but succeeded only in flopping from the coffee table into James's lap. After this episode, he fainted. Whether out of terror or fatigue, James couldn't tell, but set the owl gently aside and pried a sealed envelope out of his talon.

The letter it concealed smelled of a familiar scent- lavender mixed with a slight hint of rosemary, sweet fern, and teaberry. It was the scent of his mother's room- lavender perfume, teaberry flowers at her bedside, and sweet fern and rosemary from the aromatic candles set out by the house elves.

Sure enough, as he read the heading of the letter, it read, in a fancy, embossed, glossy, script, his mother's name. He quickly scanned the letter, reading,

__

"Dear James,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wish I could say the same for myself, as well. How are your studies going? Well, I hope? Top in all your classes, still, I expect. I am terribly sorry that I could not come and deliver this letter myself, thus, I sent Titan. How is he, by the way? I imagine the journey must be tiring for him, as it is snowing out of my bedroom window as I write this.

Ah, well, James, you know your mother was never one to make small talk. So, the point of this letter? I can almost see your brow furrowing as you read this. You look so much_ like your father. I was hoping to express my wishes of you coming home sooner, but I didn't want to worry you. I realize that is probably what I am doing with this letter, anyway, but a mother wishes the least ill worry to her children as possible. _

I personally do not see the worry in my situation, and meet it with indifference. Your father, on the other hand, worries greatly about my 'condition'. I do wish he would stop referring it as that. 'That nefarious condition'. Hmm. I should hope that you would inherit his looks and my sense. The manner in which everyone acts about me is fatuous, bordering paranoid insanity. However, as not to worry your father even more, be a dear and come home for the weekend. Your Professor Dumbledore has informed me it is alright, and, with a hint of humor, that you wouldn't likely be missing much due to the fact that your Herbology greenhouse and Care of Magical Creatures class would be impossible to reach through the snow. Always appreciated his sense of humor.

Your Mother,

~ Nina Potter ~."

James reread the letter again before finding a ticket on the train to home. A lump forming in his throat, he folded the letter up and placed it back in the envelope.

*~*~*~*~*

"Strolling the grounds, Miss Evans?"

Lily turned around to meet the bemused eyes of none other than Albus Dumbledore.

If her cheeks could flush any more than they already were, they would have. "Oh," she sighed. "I was just taking the time to admire the scenery. This-" she waved her arms around her, "-is the very… oh, essence of Hogwarts, I suppose. _You_, sir, I'm sure, know that already, but…"

The Headmaster met this statement with a nod and a twinkle in the eye. "I have familiarized myself with the grounds many times, Miss Evans, and I still find a new thing each time," he smiled. Gesturing towards the fog settling over the icy surface of the lake, he said, "And it continues to amaze me still, the tranquility and mystique of it all."

"Oh, yes," she nodded, as the fog created a damp atmosphere. The flurry of snow passed her.

"Ah, well, I suppose I should be going now," Dumbledore said with a smile. "One enjoys solidarity best alone." With a wink and the tip of an invisible hat, he walked back to the castle, humming an old tune from a muggle musical. Turning around for one last glance, he added, "Oh, and Miss Evans?"

"Yes, sir?"

"We all have our inner demons," he said. "And we all should listen to them. They possess a wisdom we could never fathom if we tried. I imagine yours would be telling you to go inside and eat once in a while." Sighing, he said wistfully, "Alas, I must agree with them. Food _is_ the basis of our survival, isn't it, Miss Evans?" Turning around again, he continued to hum to himself.

Shaking her head, Lily laughed to herself. Albus Dumbledore was a difficult man to understand. Though, perhaps she shouldn't read too much into it. After all, perhaps his simple requests really _were_ simple; perhaps he really _had_ just wanted woolen socks for Christmas.

She picked up a stone and threw it at the surface of the lake.

By the time she finally went inside, it was well past since lunch had been served and she was left to rely on her resourcefulness for food.

*~*~*~*~*

James Potter stared at the envelope in his hands.

It was just like his mother to try and belittle her illness, as to not worry him. It didn't fool him at all; he knew just how serious it was, along with everyone else in his house. It appeared that a deep air of misery hung in the Potter Mansion, since the summer before he left for Hogwarts. _Why_ his mother tried still to disregard her "condition" when everyone else handled it with extreme solemnity was beyond him. It was quite obvious that- 

No, he _did_ know why his mother acted in the manner she did. She did so not just for those around her, but for herself, as well. His mother was not one to laugh in the face of death; she was the one who seemed never to meet death, even if knocking on its door. She would never fully admit to her dwindling strength, ailing health. Rather, he knew, she would keep attempting to find the humor in the situation right up to the moment she uttered her last breath, as if it was just a silly cold which she would recover from soon. And, in a way, he knew, everyone else in the house, deep down, felt as if she would pull through as well. They figured she would still somehow live to look back and laugh at it, despite their grave manner.

He himself never being at home long enough for this to rub onto him, he found their ways petty and a poor way to ignore the world around them.

It was similar to his opinions on his parents' marriage. Despite the fact that they kept up a cheery façade, he knew that they were never in love. There might have been something there, once, long before he himself had come along. But whatever was once there was gone, replaced by a mutual respect, a slight liking, and over all, no feeling. They were happy, though. It passed his understanding how they could be happy with this arrangement, but never felt the need to ask. It wasn't his business, was what he _could_ understand.

Understanding was what he _was_. His mother had brought him up to understand, wanting him to be able to comprehend those around him. To give him a compassionate heart, an empathetic nature, had been her goal. His parents had wasted no money on finding him the finest philosophers, moralists, scholars, and the like. It seemed as if they had succeeded. 

They had given him a greater understanding of the human psyche, taught him the ways of the human mind until he knew it like clockwork, and had helped him cultivate practically a sixth sense for detecting the emotions of those around him.

In an indirect way, they had all given him ammunition against his superiors. He was able to read into their actions, expressions, gestures, and words, with more accuracy than mind reading. He could predict their next words, judge their character, and, yes, _understand_ them completely.

He never questioned these abilities; they came as naturally to him as breathing. On his own, he learned to flatter more effectively and to insult with equal potency.

It was in this way that he had learned just how to get on Lily Evans's last nerve. 

It was quite simple, actually. In flattering others, he would comment on a lacking feature.

To one subdued, bland daughter of a colleague of his father's, he had told her she possessed a radiant charm which positively captivated him from the moment he had met her. She had said it wasn't so, that he was just "saying that", and invited him to tea promptly afterwards.

To one particular witless, fussy, nosy socialite who came to pay a call on his mother, he had said that she had such an astonishing wit, such an elegant grace, of which he had never come across in all his years. She had nodded vigorously (looking, in his opinion, much like a parrot bobbing its head) at this and said that she was glad _someone_ was sensible enough to see it, unlike _some others_ who would remain nameless, while jerking haltingly in the direction of her sixth husband, Walter Hiltford, owner of the Hiltford Wizarding Family Insurance Company, sole heir to a vast fortune.

Thus, to Lily Evans, who, he had found after study of her character for several months, went out of her way to surprise others with unorthodox actions and responses, and detested the unspoken yet well-defined rules of society, he had commented casually during the First Year's Picnic Weekend that she conformed within the lines of society surprisingly well (for someone of her upbringing, he couldn't help adding) and her predictability had shocked him. And, of course, he had said it off-handedly, not to her face, but to Remus, in a way which she would most certainly overhear.

She had refused to speak to him and look him in the eye until summer break after that incident.

As if suddenly realizing what he was thinking, James groaned. Why was it that whenever he was thinking, every event would somehow relate to _her_? She was, by far, the most ubiquitous person he had ever met.

Sighing, he pocketed the envelope and its contents, resolving to dwell on it over a butterbeer and a large helping of pie in the kitchens.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily sighed, turning the butterbeer bottle slightly, her fingers circling the rim idly. It was slightly sticky.

The house-elves had been more than happy to comply to her wishes by presenting her a large three-course lunch, most of which consisted of salads, pies, and butterbeer. Putting on self-pity weight was the last thing she wanted- needed, in fact- right now.

The fire of the kitchens was warm and soothing, she had found, and had chosen to sit at the table closest to it, as the house-elves busied themselves with laundry, preparing supper, and, it appeared, creating medicines for Madame Pomfrey. Occasionally, one or two would come by and ask her if she needed anything, but other than that, she was left to dwell on the recent turn of events her life had taken alone.

Her own life seemed too depressing to dwell on, however, and she decided focusing on other things might be of benefit to her mood.

Things such as the upcoming Valentine's Day Ball.

The entire school was buzzing about the ball, revolving around an event which she found pointless- utterly pointless; a pathetic excuse for card companies to mass produce cards for money, for people to buy those stupid little teddy bears, and just another day set aside for people to bat their eyes at each other. Honestly- it was in honor of a martyr- whose end had been tragic and pointless, just like the holiday itself. Or, at least, that was what her primary school teacher had told her.

But then, she was reminded of her parents, who loved Valentine's Day, and showered each other with gifts as if they were still dating. She remembered that her father would always give his wife a breakfast-in-bed, complete with burnt toast, rubber-flavored pancakes, and an odd, homemade, slightly _off_ tasting syrup creation he made himself. Her mother would always laugh and smile at her husband, and say tactfully, "Thank you, Richard, dear. The way in which you poured my orange juice is perfect- just the right amount- an obvious sign we've known each other _far_ too long. And the way you washed this tray- not a speck of dirt or grime. Oh, and this lovely daisy! Mm, you know just how to spoil me, dear. I must be the luckiest woman in the world." Laughing, she would then whisk away the tray and hum on the way downstairs.

And that was the way she and Petunia had woken up every year on Valentine's Day until her eleventh birthday- to her mother's melodious laughter.

By the time she and her sister ran downstairs to meet the school bus, her mother would have already prepared a breakfast with toast which _wouldn't_ substitute as an excellent drawing charcoal, edible toast, and actual syrup, as well as their lunch bags. Remembering the lunch bags, she smiled slightly.

Every year, her mother would pack something special in their lunch, with a small note attached to it, much to Lily's delight and Petunia's embarrassment. Nothing big, really- a few homemade, heart-shaped cookies, maybe a small stick or two of sugar cane (as an eight year old little girl, Lily had thoroughly enjoyed sucking the sugar cane until all the sugary juice had come out completely.), or perhaps a small bit of apple strudel her mother had baked the night before. Her mother had continued to send her these little lunches every year, even after she began attending Hogwarts. 

The last note she received, she remembered, had read something along the lines of,

"_Dear Lily,_

I hope they're feeding you well enough back at that school of yours; your Aunt Ellis claims that the last she saw of you this winter break, you were skin and bones! Well, here's your cookies- baked them myself- don't forget to share with your friends! Have a nice day!

Hope you enjoy the cookies,

Love,

Mum

PS

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo!!!!!!!! ".

The notes always sent her a wave of nostalgia, homesickness, and a sense of familiarity- her mother always wrote the same things, and the cookies, strudel, and candy would always be homemade, of course. It was something she had gotten used to, something she had taken for granted. There was no need to tell her… she knew she wouldn't be getting a note this year. The thought brought a bitterness to her mouth which she was sure wasn't a result of the sweet butterbeer she had been drinking.

Brandishing her wand, she twirled it idly between her thumb and fore finger, ignoring the flood of warmth it instantly sent through her.

She supposed it was this wand which had started all her problems. Well- not the wand specifically, but everything it represented- magic, particularly. 

A house-elf came quickly to clear her tray, only to return within seconds with another tray of chocolate chip cookies. Taking a bite out of the soft, chewy, cookie, she couldn't help but think her mother's was better. Her mother had known just _how_ she liked her chocolate chip cookies- not an excessive amount of chocolate chips or cookie dough, but just enough so that she could nibble an end and still savor the taste of both chocolate and cookie. And it wouldn't be this soft, either; her mother left them in the oven so they would have a slight crisp to them, without burning them, as she had always liked a crunch to her cookies, to enjoy the slightly over burnt taste.

As much as Hogwarts food was gourmet, it just wasn't the same as her mother's cooking. This had never really bothered her before, until…

Her thoughts drifted back to her wand. If she hadn't gone to Hogwarts, her sister might still like her. If she hadn't gone to Hogwarts, she never would have met James Potter, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, or Lucius Malfoy. If she hadn't gone to Hogwarts, her skills would never have gone to an extent which even a feared, powerful, wizard would consider her a potential threat. If she hadn't gone to Hogwarts, her parents might still be alive.

__

It's not my_ fault I went to Hogwarts_, she thought. 

A nagging voice in the back of her mind argued, _Oh? You weren't forced to come. You could have ignored it and dismissed it as junk mail. You could have cast it aside indifferently. You could have written back politely telling them you were perfectly happy where you were and had no desire to learn at a school of magic. It was all your choice. You _wanted_ to come here._

Frowning, as she continued to twirl her wand, she supposed that nagging voice was right. _Well, it _was_ your decision to come here. But then, Petunia hating you was something beyond your control. You knew it. You could see her built up animosity every time she passed you the butter at the dinner table. That was part of the reason you decided to come, wasn't it? And meeting those people… There are worse people out there, aren't there? If you hadn't come to Hogwarts, perhaps you would have met them anyway. As for your skill… don't you think it would have developed anyway? When a person has a skill, they can ignore it all they want, but it'll never disappear. Besides, Voldemort kills muggles as well, doesn't he?_

But by coming here, I targeted my parents, she countered, as a few sparks shot out of her wand.

__

Well, I suppose you did, then. Now what? Are you going to spiral down into a pit of self-pity? Or will you begin blaming yourself for their end over and over and over and over until your mind can't take it anymore? Well, if you want to give it all up, why don't you just snap your wand in half right now? Or, if you get really_ desperate, just point it towards you and 'avada kedavra' yourself out of here… Don't tell me you're scared _now_. Are you?_

After a pause, the voice continued, _Well, you're decisive. You know, it's people like you that give consciences like me a bad name._

Lily sighed irritably, shooting off more sparks from the end of her wand. These little conversations with her subconscious self were getting tiring, annoying, even. She didn't like it- talking to herself had never been a favorable pastime for her, and _thinking_ to herself- well, that just proved she was a borderline lunatic!

Pausing, she raised her wand at the fire, beginning to raise it every time one of the angry flames flared up, adding a glowing spark to the fire each time. She supposed orchestrating fire wasn't the most interesting or constructive thing to do with her spare time, considering the fact that she had a Herbology essay due in a few weeks, but really, who needed constructive and interesting when one had plain old pointless? Having a point was highly overrated, anyway.

Sighing, she continued to control the fire's flaring, choreographing its every move.

*~*~*~*~*

James let a chuckle escape his lips as he realized what she was doing… He had wandered in for a pre-dinner snack when he noticed her sitting there morosely, looking as if her pet owl had died, whilst whimsically conducting the movements of the fire. 

Crouching behind a rack of chamber pots, he went unnoticed by the house-elves and… her. As she continued to "play" the fire, he studied her the best he could from his view. She had changed in the past month or so- she looked different, so very much more different than she had when they had all first boarded the train in September.

It wasn't something he could exactly place his finger on; she hadn't grown taller, she hadn't done anything with her hair (not even her shampoo had changed, he knew- her hair still had the familiar fragrance of rain, crushed rose petals, and something else he never did find out, but always identified as something very _Lily Evans_-ish), she wasn't wearing a stitch more of cosmetics than before.

No, it was something in her eyes and something in her voice. A blank look was more often on her normally expressive face than not, and she carried herself with a silence which warned others away, her eyes speaking for her. 

The eyes… for some odd reason, James had always found himself fascinated with her eyes. They were a deep green, not just a pale green, not a light green, but _green_. Her eyes had always been the most expressive part of her, despite her fiery, auburn hair- that was Sirius's niche, teasing her about her hair when they were younger- he himself had always been captivated by her eyes, her one particularly arresting feature.

Really, when a person thought of it, her hair was nothing special, she wasn't exactly an extraordinary beauty, her height average, her legs- the only reason he thought of this was due to Sirius's odd fascination with legs- average, as well. It was her eyes, really, which left such a lasting impression on people.

She would always flit her eyes around a room before entering it, never making unnecessary eye contact with anyone, a calculating look in her eyes. To him, they had always been cold and distant, occasionally something else of a similar nature, but it seemed her eyes had many more expressions than he'd seen. Lately, however, there was a lonely, wistful, distant, bitter look to her eyes, when the emotion wasn't already carefully hidden.

He watched as she let a small sigh escape from her slightly parted lips, turning her gaze around the room. 

Deciding to make his presence known, he cleared his throat.

*~*~*~*~*

Slightly alarmed, Lily turned to the spot of the noise, her eyes showing relief when she realized it was only Potter- two run-ins with the Headmaster when they both knew very well she should be in the Common Room or library, practically any place but there, couldn't be a good sign.

He had been leaning against the wall opposite of the chamber pots, but he was now making a move for her table.

"May I…?" he gestured towards the seat across from her.

Nodding briefly, she cleared the table of the several rolls of parchment and textbooks she had. "So…" she offered the plate of chocolate chip cookies to him, "May I ask the reason for your traipsing into areas of the school both you and I know you shouldn't have knowledge of?"

Chuckling, he replied, "I could ask the same of you."

"Right-o, then, neither of us will touch upon this subject again," she murmured, reaching for another cookie. "So what brings you here, then?"

"Oh, you don't know?" he raised a brow. "I'm madly in love with you- I stalk you by day and watch you sleep every night. My obsession drives me to the brink of insanity, but you are the very substance of my life." Taking a bite of his cookie, he continued, mouth-full, "I can't breathe without you, eat without you, live without you. I will never have another love like this. Please…"

"Argh!" she covered her face. "Next time you profess your undying love for a girl, try doing without showering her with cookie crumbs!"

Swallowing, James wiped his mouth quickly. "I came down here for a snack," he answered. "And I got one."

"You could have said _that_; it would have saved a lot of unnecessary, unfortunately identified, flying objects spewing at me," she smiled bitterly, her chin resting on her fist.

James smiled briefly, as her gaze was directed at the fire, twirling her wand idly again. "First a rain fetish, then a strange fascination with snow, and now pyromania, as well?" he asked with a hint of irony in his voice. "What next- don't tell me, you're becoming a bibliophile and giving up the rest of your life to study under Madame Pince regarding the enthralling study of preserving books."

"Not quite yet," she murmured, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. As she tilted her head to study the fire, her fingers flew back to her wand. "Though I will admit to the accusation of pyromania in the mildest form."

"I suppose I can see what you mean by it," he turned to the fireplace as well. "It seems… well, alive, almost. And it probably _is_ the most alive, non-magical, inanimate object you can find. Actually, Sirius and I used to joke about you being a lot like fire, that you'd spit fire whenever you spoke."

She angled her face in a manner which turned her attention to him, with the fire still in the corner of her eye, the fire illuminating the side of her face. "I'm like fire?" she seemed mildly amused. "There are many forms of fire, may I ask which one?"

"Oh, no form in particular," he shrugged. "Just the concept, the essence, of fire, I'd say. Sirius always used to say it was because of the color of your hair, whereas I always said it was in the way you'd speak to us and the way your personality would flare up so often. It was an oft debated topic, actually," he laughed shortly. "We would spend hours arguing about it at night, when neither of us could sleep and counting sheep became too juvenile. Some six hours into the night, Remus or Peter would always yell at us to shut up, and tell us that with our carrying-ons, it would seem to anyone else that we had an incredibly huge crush on you, which would always mute us immediately."

"Funny," she murmured. Taking one last glance at the fire, she turned back to him. "So, might as well use this opportunity to discuss the final plans- we start decorating in two days, anyway."

"What's to discuss?" he frowned, turning to face her as well. "Isn't everything finished?"

Lily shrugged. "All but the exact music pick. I've been letting the girls poke and pry through all the records; the way I figure it, they'll pick the more popular songs which all revolve around some star-crossed love story or other, pretty much perfect for the occasion anyway."

James frowned. "But we need a decent amount of songs featuring the swing music of the forties. I don't think they'll…"

"Oh, that's done. I've just left the popular music to them. Who knows what they'll end up picking- with the muggle themes, I doubt half the school population will have heard any of the songs," she shrugged. "So I'm relying on their good taste to come up with something even the magically brought up students will be able to enjoy."

"Good strategy," he quirked a smile. "On my part, the decoration orders are coming in tomorrow, but I won't be here to receive them-"

"Neither will I," Lily frowned. "I'll be gone for just tomorrow. I suppose one of the teachers will make do, then."

"I suppose so," he shrugged. "Anyway, since neither of us will be home tomorrow, that leaves us two days to check the orders and decorate the Great Hall, and on the morning of the ball, we'll have to meet with the organization committees of the houses to add the finishing set up touches. How's that for you?"

"The same, pretty much," she sighed. Glancing around the kitchens her brow furrowed, and she asked, "How _did_ you find this place? I won't tell, I promise."

James shrugged. "Oh, one of our late-night run-ins with Filch led to us stumbling into this. Sirius… figured out how to open the door somehow, and, well, that's basically how it's been since second year."

Lily sighed, staring at the cackling fire which she no longer controlled. She liked it better this way, she supposed, its unpredictable ways were much more interesting to watch than something she could control and predict the next move of. "Second year? Well, you beat me to it, then. I found this in my third year. Not much of a place, then. The school has added so much more supplies since then."

"It has, but it never did get into the habit of technological advances," James murmured. "I suppose they thought it was too much of a bother, electrical wiring and such when they had magic to fuel it anyway."

Mildly surprised, she asked, "You know about electricity?"

"My father," he explained. "Muggle magical relations, he was sure I was educated and brought up both ways."

"Muggle magical relations?" she raised a brow. "Politics? What, your father works for the Ministry of Magic? Or is he just extremely politically correct or has an odd obsession with muggles?"

"I suppose you could say he works for the Ministry," James said carefully. "He actually doesn't care for muggles that much. It's not a prejudice against muggleborns, or anything of the sort, it's just that he wants to keep up appearances… The Potter line has had magical blood coursing through their veins for hundreds of generations, even past the Malfoy family's bloodline. Records trace it, or something like that. So, really, my parents are holding a heavy weight on my shoulders as to who I consort with- particularly _girls_ I consort with. They prefer girls brought up in the magical high society, which really disgusts me, actually, and-" he paused mid-sentence. "_Why_ am I telling you about this?"

She shrugged. "Don't ask me."

"It's because you're very…" he paused, choosing his words carefully. "… _easy_ to talk to. I'm sure I'm not the only one who finds this to be true, despite our… history."

"Did James Potter just compliment _me_?" she feigned surprise.

James shrugged, getting up to leave. "I told you already. I'm madly in love with you and stalk you day and night, remember?"

Tweaking her nose (a very annoying thing her grandparents did), he picked another cookie from the tray and strode out of the kitchens.

*~*~*~*~*

By the time it was morning, the snow had turned to rain again overnight, much of the snow left over from the storm washed away as a result. The skies seemed a dull gray, covered in a blanket of gray clouds, a light drizzle in the morning air.

For Lily, it reflected her mood, as she slowly, methodically, packed away what was left to be packed away in her trunk. Really, she would be coming back tomorrow morning, so she supposed all this was really just unnecessary, but she continued packing as she always did for trips, humming and occasionally singing softly the lyrics of "Danny Boy" as she packed. It had been one of her mother's favorite tunes to sing to her as a child, to lull her to sleep on her especially restless days, and the song had stuck with her throughout her life, being one of the first melodies she had learned.

"…'Tis you, 'tis you must go, and I must bide… But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow, 'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow… Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so…'" The song died on her lips when she looked up to see James Potter leaning against the frame of the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face. "May I help you?"

The expression of confusion quickly passed through his face before he quickly gathered his wits enough to say, "Oh, no, I was just stopping by to tell you that I'm leaving in about fifteen or so minutes…"

Frowning, Lily paused to check her watch. "Well…" she glanced up again to meet his eyes while hurriedly grabbing a few books from a bookshelf and tossing it into her trunk, "You met me just in time. I'm leaving in seven minutes. Was there… anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Not… Not really," he frowned, watching her hastily shove a few more books in her trunk. "I just… thought I should tell you that… Well, never mind. It wasn't important, anyway."

"Well," she murmured, kneeling to close the latches on her trunk, "If you felt it was important enough to go out of your way to come up to the Girls' Dormitories to tell me, than I'm sure it's important to tell me now." She let a sigh of relief pass as she shut the latches, leaning now against the bedpost of Evelyn's bed, her trunk at her feet. Brushing a stray strand out of the way, she looked up again. "So… what was it you were going to tell me?"

Something which looked strangely like embarrassment to her crossed his face as he cleared his throat. "Oh, it was…" he cleared his throat again, "… nothing, really. I just wanted to stop by and say…" he swallowed, the unreadable expression back. "I just wanted to say that I really am…" he swallowed again, clearing his throat. "I just wanted to tell you that I really am sorry about your… parents."

Lily's eyes softened almost immediately, her hand gripping the bedpost. "Oh… James, I really am… thank you," she murmured. "You know, you already said it once be-"

"I know," he cleared his throat again. "I just wanted to say it again before you… left. Well, I guess, I really should be going now. You should too, actually. I, um… well, goodbye…" he turned slightly at the doorway, pausing, before adding almost as an afterthought, "… Lily."

With that slightly incoherent statement, he left the dormitory, leaving only Lily standing there in a slightly dazed manner. _Had he just…?_ The moment not completely registering to her, she raised her hand slightly and murmured softly, "Thank you… James."

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N): Ack, I know, I'm evil. I'm so sorry, to all you faithful readers! And flamers- did I deprive you of another story to flame? So sorry about that. It's just- well, a day became a week, a week, a month, and a month became several months, so… Well, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. They're warming up to each other!

****

To Come: Not much L/J interaction to speak of. It picks up from here, James going to visit his mother, Lily, her parents, Amazing Grace is thrown in there, in what very possibly may be the shortest chapter ever to come from me. Recollections, organization of thoughts, and tying of some _very_ loose ends will occur before proceeding to the chapter after the next, not just in the chapter, but various typo errors throughout the story, as well. The next chapter is something of a close to the long bridge chapters. In the next chapter, to be vague, a letter, James Potter Sr., Petunia Evans, rain, and an overall bittersweet mood set. After the chapter, things will perk up, and their actions won't consist of just _talking_- I realize that they're getting boring, but please realize: **1)** it's a bridge, and **2) **they're growing up and maturing as the story progresses. But not to worry, I can promise you plenty still, with the Valentine's Day Ball (a little late, I know), Petunia's wedding, later on, and a _very_ big… _school trip_ of sorts.

**__**

Don't forget to tell me your favorite and least favorite chapters! And help me out- tell me what you like and dislike about them. My writing will improve for the better that way! So don't forget to r/r! I **promise** it won't take as long for me to update… maybe by the end of next week or so… I have a science quiz to study for, lab to finish, science project, and history project… I'm busy! But I'll see what I can do… by next week, maybe? Just do your part and r/r!


	22. Life, Hope, and Love

Chapter 22

(A/N): Ah. Did you miss me? A few points to clarify (again):

**__**

To Nikoda Lynn Snape and to all you other people thinking the same: J.K. Rowling originally said in an interview that James's quidditch position was Chaser, while the movie somehow made it so that he was Seeker. I decided to follow J.K. Rowling's original statement, rather than to follow the movie, as all my information is based on books and interviews anyway.

__

To Autumngurl102: I have to agree with you - St. Valentine's crusade was never _pointless_. And yes, I have read the story, countless times. My opinions, however, make no difference as to what Lily's are. And no, I am not one of those writers who make their main character a perfected image of themselves, following all the likes, dislikes and ideas as themselves- no offense to those of you who do. I just needed that to prove a point in the story as to her mood and to her character, as I never saw her to be one to follow the crowd. So, anyway, my point is, I never meant to offend anyone by that, it was just to exaggerate the foul mood she's in- when people are in depressed, dark moods (particularly a friend of mine… we'll call her… Hammie's Sister), they tend to think things they normally don't.

Anyway, I hope that answered your questions. This will be a relatively short chapter.

*~*~*~*~*

As he reached the last few steps of the Potter Mansion, something occurred to James Potter- he didn't _want _to go in, nor was anyone forcing him to. He could turn back now, take a ride back to the Kings Cross Train Station, and never look back. They need never know of his arrival- he could just say he missed his train.

Yes, he realized this thought was cowardly, almost immediately ashamed for having thought it- for there _was_ something forcing him. His conscience- he knew himself that if he turned away from that door now, he may very well never see his mother alive again. It was this thought that kept him from turning away and running as far and as quickly as he could in the opposite direction.

And yet, he still did not approach the doorknocker.

Rather, he sat down at the top step, which provided little protection from the rain, watching the snow melt away slowly as the tiny droplets of water pelted down from above. Sighing and watching his breath evaporate before him, he rubbed his hands together for warmth, as the rain fell at his feet, making small splashes with each drop in the collecting water.

A few small sparrows flitted from tree to tree nearby, looking for shelter against the steady rain, a seemingly futile task for them, as they sang a mournful melody as they went. Raising the collar of his coat to shield against the increasing cold, he stretched a shaky hand out into the unsheltered air, willing the raindrops to fall upon it, to wash away the gloom it seemed to be covered with. Realizing that the porch roof was proving woefully inadequate as he was completely drenched anyway, he stood and walked down a few steps, his right hand still outstretched as he tilted his face up towards the sky.

The sky seemed endless, the small droplets of water pelting his face coming from that land of no limitation, something he imagined must be very freeing, with no ceiling confining and suffocating a person, smothering him with rules and restrictions. Yes, he thought, to be a droplet of rain must be very enjoyable.

Lowering his eyes to view his surroundings, he became very aware of the fact his momentary reverie may have cost him much needed time- and Time was one of the few things his father, with all his gold and money, couldn't buy.

Shaking his head in self-disgust, James turned around and approached the doorknocker, this time waiting for the resounding click admitting him entrance.

*~*~*~*~*

"So, are you visiting the area, then?"

Lily turned her head, taking in the view, setting down her bags. The air was damp and salty- as it normally would be, nearby the sea. The grass was tall and green, rippling as the wind drifted past, teasing at her hair, which she had clipped into a low ponytail earlier. The sky seemed low, an indefinite gray to match the color of the sea, rippling and waving below the hill. A little beyond a grassy knoll, there was a small cemetery. A bit off to the side of that was a small church, where, she was told, her father had grown up attending every Sunday, and, later, was married in.

It all seemed so unfamiliar to her, but this was what her father had once called home. Reaching in the pocket of her purse, she smiled and murmured softly, "Might as well be," as she paid the taxi fare.

"Well, enjoy it- Ireland sure is pretty this time of year," he answered, tipping his hat. Laughing as he stepped into his car, the driver said, "It is every time of the year."

Turning in the direction of the graveyard again, she looked beyond, where a large, white tent had been set up, figures clad in black milling under it already, to avoid the anticipated morning drizzle.

Gripping her bags, she took a step forward, her heart lurching.

*~*~*~*~*

"I, erm, brought something… for you." James nervously scratched the back of his neck, which was in the odd habit of itching whenever he was experiencing an awkward moment. "Lavenders. They're your favorite, I believe?"

His mother smiled up at him, graciously taking the small bundle of purple flowers from him, inhaling the scent. "Lovely, James. They're such a scarcity around here these days, what with everyone sending me roses and orchids. Each beautiful in their own way, but you know my preference for lavenders." Taking one out of the bunch and handing the rest to her son, she said, "Be a dear and put these in the vase by my bedside, would you, James? There's already freshwater in it."

James bit the inside of his cheek and tactfully didn't say aloud that the vase was on a table right next the bed she was lying in. "Of course, mother. Anything else I can do for you?" he frowned in concern. "Fetch you a glass of water? Get the house-elves to stoke the fire? Open the window?"

Mrs. Potter waved her hand dismissively. "No, no, you aren't a dog, James, I have no need for you to fetch and carry my things like a good little puppy. Though, would you be a dear and draw the curtains?"

"Yes, of course, mother."

"Thank you," she sighed, leaning against her pillow and shutting her eyes wearily. "Your father was the one that ordered them closed," she murmured. "Yet somehow I don't think I can bear to stay in a room where the sunlight is barred from view."

"It's raining," James stated, walking back to his mother's side. "And it's cold. Perhaps it _would_ be better for me to-"

"It's fine, James," his mother's voice took an edgy tone. Her breathing shallow again, she said softly, "I am not a child. I am your mother. It is not _your_ job to shield me from the harsh realities of life." Her soft laugh trilling through the air, she murmured, "Or death, either, for that matter."

He reached over for her hand, kneeling on the spread carpet beside her bed. "You aren't going to die," he said insistently. "You're perfectly fine, mother."

Nina Potter's blue eyes clouded as she reached up to affectionately touch her son's cheek. "Ah, well, we all die eventually, James. It's nothing to be afraid of, you know."

James drew back from his mother, letting her hand fall limp to her side. This wasn't like her at all, and he hated to see her like this. Her pale blonde hair was limp, in a loose braid, with the slight shine of something that had once held a brilliant luster, which had long since been dulled. In her eyes, as well, it showed that any shining light, any flickering flame of hope she had held onto, had died, her eyes wide open and glassy, dark rims around the bottom. Her skin lost its usual flush, replacing it a pallid, pale, color. As she lay in her bedroom, layers of blankets wrapped around her, she still shivered, whether from cold or, simply, fear, he did not know.

"James, my dear son, if not now, you may have to face the inevitable later," his mother murmured. "Nobody lives forever, hmm?"

And it was then he realized what it was that had changed his mother- the denial was gone, vanished without a trace in the air- what was suffocating him now was her plain acceptance of her fate.

*~*~*~*~*

As her sister finished reading the eulogy, Lily looked up towards the sky. No drops of rain had begun to fall yet, but she could almost feel the moistness in the air. She hadn't been able to focus on the eulogy- she found that opening old wounds had never been her strong point. By the time she tried to feel something- like child picking a scab to see if it still hurt- the wound would have been closed up, the sting vanishing while she wasn't looking.

Realizing her sister- and everyone else- was looking at her expectantly, she glanced down at the program. Oh. She was supposed to sing. Petunia stared at her, as if waiting for her to stand. Slowly, she rose from her seat and striding to the podium, acknowledging the bitter, tearful, smiles of encouragement from the crowd.

"And now, my sister, Lily Evans, will lead us in singing 'Amazing Grace'," Petunia said, turning and clapping, as the others- like dumb cows in a pasture being led by their master- followed in suit. Giving her sister a small squeeze with her hand, she turned on her heel and took a seat in the front, her face becoming blank and emotionless.

As she lifted her head to the crowd, Lily noticed that most of the crowd- filled with both familiar and unfamiliar faces- was wearing the same blank expression as her sister, like porcelain dolls with painted faces. They all stared back at her, waiting, waiting for what, she somehow couldn't remember.

__

Her. Something registered in the back of her mind; _they were all waiting for her_. Yet somehow, as she opened her mouth to sing the now familiar old hymn, nothing came out. A deadpanned silence followed for a few brief moments, until she, at last, though struggling, managed to sing out the first few lines of the song.

*~*~*~*~*

"_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,_

That saved a wretch like me…

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind, but now, I see…"

James watched his mother whisper the lyrics of the familiar hymn softly, her eyes still closed, the sound faint and soft, her voice wavering. He felt heartbreakingly close to losing her somehow, as he accepted it, and he felt utterly helpless, as he gripped her hand with his own- more for his own strength than for hers.

Nina Potter's eyelids fluttered open once more, relieving her son's sudden fears that she had left him. "Now, James, don't look so fearful, now, hmm?" Leaning against the pillows again, she turned her face to admire the lavenders at her bedside. "Death isn't such a scary thing, is it? Besides, you're my son. My strong, fearless, son. A true Gryffindor at the heart."

Gryffindor? The idea struck him as strange- it was the house of the brave, but he certainly didn't feel that way. Dumbledore had once told him in second year that one could always tell the cowardly from the brave when watching which way they ran in the face of danger. In his own opinion, to run forward and head on wasn't necessarily brave- it might just be plain _stupid_. But his mother clearly didn't think so.

"My son," she said fondly, reaching up to touch his cheek again. "Strong, brave, intelligent- I'm proud of you, James. I truly am."

"How can you be so-" he choked on his words before gathering his senses again to continue, "How can you be so calm about this when you know it's killing everyone else?"

"My dear James, is that what you think I am?" she whispered. Looking away, she turned in the direction of the rain pattering against the windowsill. "Calm? Far from that. This is not _calm_, James, this is acceptance. I do not _think_ about it, for one wastes away ones _life_ thinking of _death_, would you not agree? Now- come, talk to me of happier subjects. How is school?"

It was useless, he found, to use the direct approach with his mother when she clearly wanted to avoid and skirt around the topic- something highly uncharacteristic of her. "Fine," he swallowed, setting his jaw. "School is fine."

"Fine?" she breathed. "Please… try a little more detail, my dear."

"It's not much different from the usual," he answered. "Sirius is being himself, as you know. Remus hasn't been feeling well, and Peter's fine- he's trying his hand at muggle mathematics."

"Oh?" she inquired. "And how is he doing?"

"Well," her son answered stiffly. James swallowed again, willing his throat to open up, to stop constricting the air that passed through to his lungs. "And the professors are doing the same, as well, with the overload of assignments once more. Nothing… out of the ordinary."

"And that…" his mother stopped to catch her breath. "That Lily girl. Is she the same as when we met her?"

__

Lily. "Lily Evans? She's… she's been through a lot since then. Her parents- they were killed… by Voldemort. She's been a little detached ever since." James found his mouth unusually dry. _Lily_. In recollection of the last words he had exchanged with her, he glanced quickly at the expression on his mother's face, for an immediate reaction. From her face, he read sympathy, from her eyes, he read something more, something else, something he couldn't name. What he had said to her… it had been in a moment of sudden understanding- he had been suddenly struck by how similar their situations were in the midst of reading his mother's letter to him for the hundredth time. In that moment of instant clarity, he had felt the imploring need to _say_ something to her, to let her know he sympathized.

No, beyond that- that he _cared_.

*~*~*~*~*

"'_Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,_

And grace my fears relieved…

How precious did that grace appear,

The hour I first believed…"

As the words left her lips, flowing and familiar to her mouth though strange and foreign to her ears, Lily surveyed the crowd. It seemed their ears were closed as well, hearing but not truly _listening_, just as she could watch but couldn't _see_.

Sad though it was, no tears had been shed yet, strangely enough. It seemed everyone wanted to keep strong for- for _whose_ sake? Hers? Her sister's? Her parents'? All three ideas seemed equally ludicrous to her. And yet, all the faces in attendance were still kept carefully blank, like the faces of painted glass dolls, cold and expressionless.

Faintly, in the distance, she could hear the cry of a seagull. How freeing, how liberating, she thought as she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, to be a seagull. The salty taste of the ocean was in the air, she'd noticed, and wondered briefly if the soaring seagull could feel the difference in the air above the ocean. She wondered if it would be lonely, with simply the spray of the ocean and the crashing waves upon the high rocks as company, or if one could learn to appreciate the solitude. Mostly, she'd wanted all through her life to be able to _fly_ that way… To fly so high and at such speed that one's troubles on the humble earth would never be able to take flight as well and catch up. To defy the omnipresent laws of gravity. To be simply _free_.

Opening her eyes, she looked up towards the sky. Though gray and indefinite still, the cool wind blowing upon her face, the damp air had still not produced the promised morning rain. She felt vaguely disappointed.

*~*~*~*~*

"_Through many dangerous toils and snares,_

I have already come,

'Tis grace that brought me safe thus far,

And grace will lead me home…"

James, though mildly puzzled at the way his mother was singing the hymn, patted her hand reassuringly and gave her a patient, somewhat inquisitive smile, then looked out at the rain falling steadily outside. Each drop hit the windowpane with a soft sound, then dripping downwards from its position, leaving a watery trail on the pane as it did so.

His mother murmured, "We live in such dark times, James, it makes one wonder… how ever do we find the time to be truly happy?" At his questioning look, she responded, "No need to understand, dear. I know your father and I have spent most of our time trying to teach you how to understand… I suppose that was our mistake. We should have taught you how to truly _live_, how to enjoy life."

"You raised me fine, mother." James reached up the brush a pale blonde strand of hair from his mother's face.

Nina Potter shook her head. "I'm afraid, James, that we were unable to educate you in how to truly enjoy life. That was always something we'd hope you'd learn on your own- but the strict rules of your childhood never left you, did they? I had always wished you would learn how to appreciate the simple, finer things in life, and hoped that teaching you how to understand these things would help."

"You raised me fine, mother," he repeated softly. "Don't doubt yourself so much."

Nina smiled and laughed lightly. "Hmm. Well, I raised a perfect gentleman, I can tell you that. Your successes have piled upon each other over the years. Tell me, James, did you ever pause and look back, let yourself enjoy your more minor victories before going on for your next conquest? I never wanted you to go through life trying to please your parents- that's no life, living for the approval of someone else."

James sighed, resting his chin on his hand, his fingers lacing with his mother's. "Why are you asking me about _my_ life, mother?"

Surprisingly, Nina let her light laugh trill through the air as she smiled at her son.

*~*~*~*~*

"_When we've been there ten thousand years,_

Bright shining as the sun…

We've no less days to sing God's praise,

Than when we first begun."

And she was done. Done, her part was done, she no longer had to be in the center of attention. Indeed, as this thought ran through her mind, the seated crowd began to stand, all headed in the direction of the cemetery. She didn't have to look to see where- they were all headed in the direction of the two freshly dug grave plots; a hole, a scar in the ground where her parents would spend the rest of eternity in. Entombed in the Earth, as the Earth gave life, she would also receive it. A fair exchange, Lily thought grimly, as she fixed a small smile upon her face.

"God bless you, dearie," a stout woman dressed in a black dress murmured, shaking her hand with a strong grip. As the woman moved past, blowing her nose on a black silk handkerchief, she wondered what relation she had with her parents. A friend? A distant relative? What did it matter, anyway, now that her parents were dead and the only things she had left of them were a few pictures, letters, and a lifetime of memories? Life had given her a cup that was full and brimming, and had, while she wasn't looking, replaced it with one half empty- filled with cynicism, heartbreak, and bitterness.

"Thank you," she said to the next passing person, shaking their hand. "Thank you for coming."

As she waited through the wishes of goodwill towards the rest of her family, the handshakes, she began to wonder if she was the only one who was feeling as if something precious and valuable had been taken away from her- something irreplaceable had been lost, and a bit of her happiness had been permanently chipped away.

As the crowd dispersed, her sister appeared at her side, dressed, traditionally, in the black dress, her blonde hair hidden in an upsweep under a black hat. "Well," she said crisply, "That was interesting."

Dazedly, she replied, "What?"

"For a moment there, I thought you had left your voice back in England," Petunia said humorlessly. Hesitantly, her sister reached into her black handbag and took out a rose. Black, of course. "Tell me, how have you… been?"

Taken aback by the half caring gesture her sister had made, Lily swallowed and responded, "Fine. I've been just… fine. Why do you ask?"

"You're happy, then?" The question was spoken in a strange, strangled, voice. Petunia avoided meeting her sister's eyes as she asked the question, choosing to stare at the rose, instead.

"Yes, I believe I am," Lily answered softly.

Petunia twirled the rose between her thumb and forefinger, looking up at the sky expectantly, paying no attention to its thorns. She plucked a petal off of the flower and tossed it into the air. "Let the wind carry it," she said in the same subdued, strangled, voice. Sure enough, it was picked up by a breeze and fluttered off, proof enough, apparently, to her sister that the breeze was still there. Turning to her sister, Petunia asked, "So you have found peace, then? You have been able to live your life happily?"

"Yes," came the soft reply.

Her sister turned to her. "You're happy?" she asked again in disbelief. Unexpectedly, she raised a hand and struck her sister. As Lily's hand went automatically to the side of her face, her sister continued breathlessly, "Happy, while the rest of us are drowning in misery? What _right_ have you to be happy, Lily Evans? This isn't your magical little world, Lily; you can't escape from reality this time. Your parents are _dead_. And you still have the effrontery to tell me that you are _happy_?"

Petunia moved past her, clutching both the handbag and the rose until her knuckles were white.

Still standing rooted in the same spot, staring after her sister, Lily's hands went numbly to her hair, now twisted in an elaborate bun at the nape of her neck, adjusting the pins and the hat, lifting the black veil that covered her face. As she let the cool air soothe the sting of her sister's blow, she found that the sting of her sister's words were still- if not even more acutely- painfully there.

It was true, really. What right _had_ she to be happy now? But then, she countered, she didn't feel remotely happy. Really, it seemed no emotion could penetrate through her. Even now, with all those around her, mourning the loss of her parents, she couldn't feel anything. It was as if she could no longer _feel_ at all- and that wasn't how she had wanted it to be. And yet, there was still no stirring of emotion in her as this thought occurred, no tears were shed, no _feeling_ at all.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered softly, her eyes closed, letting her words be carried by the cool, salty, breeze- along with a hope that they would be heard by someone with sympathetic ears. _Trouble shared is trouble halved_, her mother had once told her.

Exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, Lily fingered the soft, velvety petals of the white lily in her hands, taking in the fragrance of it, the breeze that ruffled it, and, momentarily, almost felt her mother's kiss upon her forehead as the breeze passed her again.

Opening her eyes in surprise, she found that the first few droplets of rain had begun to fall from the sky. _Like the tears of the angels_, she had thought as a small child. Feeling the droplets of water wash upon her face, she let the tears she had held back for so long release, the first salty tear joining the pelting rain. Looking down at the lily in her hands, Lily let a small smile touch her lips- the first _true_ smile in what seemed like years.

*~*~*~*~*

"Mmm, pretty," Nina said faintly, admiring the single lavender she had removed from the bunch. "Pity they had to cut it in order for you to give me this bouquet. Its beauty may never be matched - and we can only admire it a short while before it begins to wilt… soon it will be nothing but a memory." Shaking her head, James's mother carefully placed it among the others in the vase. Beckoning her son, who had begun to pace between her bed and her dresser, she murmured, "Come closer, James. Come, sit on the bed, hmm? Humor your mother, won't you?"

"Yes, mother?" He was obediently at her side, with a touch of concern in his eyes. "What is it?"

Nina closed her eyes. "I don't want you to feel bitter when I'm gone. I'm tired, now, and it will be a good rest for me. I've lived my life, James, and I've lived it well. I don't regret a thing, truly, I don't. Do you understand what I'm saying, James?"

Her son swallowed. "Not completely, mother, no."

She smiled softly, murmuring, "No need. I just want you to know that when I do die, I'll be ready for it. I've lived my life, and I've been happy with it. Really," she added, sensing her son's disbelief. "It's _you _that I'm worried about."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, mother," James replied.

"Yes, you, dear," the smile on her face faded. "Even if you _do_ live a long, healthy, life, what good will it do you, James, if you never learn how to enjoy it? Your life has been so centered around your studies, around our expectations of you; we were so _happy_ when you became friends with Remus and Sirius. For once, you learned to view the world in a brighter, newer, view. And yet, though we realize you value your friendship with them, you still never learned to appreciate the minor things in life that makes life worth living, no matter how much time we have. Do you understand?"

James frowned. "What exactly are you saying, mother?"

The smile returned, giving her a serene expression. "I want you to notice the small details in your daily life. Go for a walk in the rain. Smell a flower. Write a letter to someone- anyone. It doesn't matter what you _do_, James, as long as you do it. Time is such a fragile thing, James; it can be taken away from you at any moment. How much time you're given doesn't matter; what you do with it is what counts. Remember that, James."

"Yes, mother," he replied softly, his grip on her hand tightening. He could almost feel her slipping away from him, her breathing becoming shallower.

"Promise me you'll do that, James," she murmured, with effort. "Live life without regrets. It's the small twists and turns that make us who we are, hmm? No reason to regret any of that." Her breathing grew to be short, quick, breaths.

"Yes, mother," he answered again, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear for her.

"Thank you, James," she murmured, smiling again as she closed her eyes wearily. Soon after this statement, he felt her hand fall limp in his and no longer heard her labored breathing. The soft smile was still on her face, giving her the appearance, in his opinion, of an angel.

Leaning over, James kissed his mother lightly on the forehead before letting go of her hand. "Thank _you_, mum," he whispered softly as he stood up and walked briskly out of the room. The scent of lavenders followed him out.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily sighed as she touched the cold marble of the two headstones. The rest of the crowd had left, seeking refuge under the tent, while she remained behind to meet the thing that had been occupying her dreams and her reveries ever since she had returned.

"Hi, mum," she murmured, stopping first before her mother's grave. It was made of a smooth, black, marble, with an etching of a small lily and a rose above the inscription. The stems of the two flowers formed a small double scroll beneath the flowers, each scroll in the opposite direction, a vine of ivy forming a scroll above the flowers. An indefinite, four-petal flower was etched at the section where the scrolls of the two flower stems met. Lily recognized it as the Corollari family's signature insignia, having seen it stamped upon the wax seal of all her Great Aunt's letters. Her eyes trailing down, she read the inscription:

__

In Loving Memory

~ Marigold Riddington Evans ~

Devoted Wife, Caring Mother, Loving Sister,

And Dear Friend

1933~1978

"I'm sorry I… I'm sorry I couldn't save you," she murmured softly. "And I'm sorry for all the times I resented you in the past. I'm sorry I never went home for holidays like you always asked. I'm sorry I… never told you how much I really did appreciate you when I had the chance. I'm sorry that we don't have any more time left together…" Wiping a tear hastily, she laughed- a sob was mixed in. "Sorry, mum, I really am. I never meant for any of those things to happen, and now… Well, if there's one thing you taught me, it's never to be sorry for someone's living. Really, I suppose we should be celebrating your life, rather than mourning your death… You were such a wonderful, beautiful, person."

Reaching out and letting her finger trace the words _"Caring Mother"_, she continued, "The thing that I really can't get over is referring to you in the past tense. You still _are_ for me, no matter how far back in the past you are for everyone else. I can still hear all of your words in my mind, every day. As long as I'm here, you're here with me. And right now, mum… well, I'm here."

Smiling slightly as she placed the pristine-white lily in her hands at the bottom of the headstone, next to her sister's black rose, she murmured, "Ironic, isn't it mother, that lilies symbolize both death and perfection?" Letting a small laugh escape, she continued, "I'd say the perfection pertains to you, mother. You were always perfect in _my_ eyes, always, even when I was angry with you… I suppose that was the reason why I _was_ angry, since I knew you'd always be right. You were my _mother_, how could I not think of you as perfect?"

Her finger trailing down to _"Dear Friend"_, she went on. "Death, however, doesn't suit you. It never did. You were always so full of life when you were alive, why should that change now? I still see you with the same livelihood and optimism as ever- I never saw you without it. To me, you're still alive as ever- I can feel you everywhere I go. Your very essence is in the sunrise, I suppose- beautiful, powerful, giving hope, ending darkness, and promising a new day." Sighing, Lily's hand left the headstone. "I guess what I wanted to say, mum, is that… well, I love you."

*~*~*~*~*

James stared at the letter in his hand, sitting in a chair inside of his parents' bedroom while his father paced before the window, occasionally looking out at the steady rain, as if for reassurance. It was sealed in an envelope; his mother's slanted cursive addressing it to him. "I don't understand, sir. What do you want me to do with it?"

James Potter Senior glanced wearily at his son. "Your mother wrote it a while ago, when we first found out..." He swallowed, unable to finish. Returning to his reverie while staring out the window, James's father remained stonily silent before continuing, "She wanted you to read it after she… died. That was all she ever told me." Sighing, as if he was suffering the worst kind of punishment, he turned from the window.

As he made a move towards the door, James stopped his father with a light tap of the shoulder. Slowly, almost painfully, Mr. Potter turned, asking edgily, "What?"

"I was just wondering, sir…" James swallowed a lump in his throat. "I just needed to know… dad. Did you… love her?"

His father set his jaw, a stormy look in his eyes, his expression dulled. After exhaling a long breath, he replied softly, "Yes." Walking out of the room quickly, Mr. Potter strode down the hall to his wife's bedroom, in search, presumably, of his wife's doctor, leaving his son in the room alone to make sense of what the letter meant.

Turning the envelope, he found the red wax seal with his mother's stamp, two lavenders encircling her initials in a narrow script. Something about the familiar seal he had seen so many times before gave him the desire to both smile and cry at the same time. He chose neither, remaining silent as he stared at the seal for several seconds that made up an eternity, before he finally broke it. The familiar fragrance of his mother's room hit him, the lavender most prominent, nostalgia surrounding and enclosing him. Catching his breath, he opened the letter.

"_Dear James,_

I suppose, if you're reading this now, then I am no longer alive. The reason for this letter, however, is not because of my death; it is because of your life. I would hope that you understand, in most circumstances, but given this situation, I have learned a few things of my own- a few things I would like you to know, if I never have the opportunity to speak to you again. Most importantly, however, I want you to know that it's not absolutely necessary for you to understand me now. What's important is that you will hopefully come to some peace of mind from what I say now.

I have lived a life without regrets, James, and I have lead a good one- I was blessed, in a sense, as are you, to have been born into such a life of fortune- no matter how much time you or I have on Earth, we are blessed to have ever truly lived_. One must learn to appreciate this to enjoy living, as did I. After all, what have I to regret? Your father was a loving man, you were a wonderful, intelligent son, and I couldn't have come across two people who could have made my life any happier than you did. What we did not have in quantity, we had in quality. Thus, I accept my fate, as you will yours, someday._

Nobody lives forever, James. 'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh', is what they say. I was given a life, I have lived it, and I die. But you must know, James, the ones we love never truly leave us, neither from death or any other obstacle. I am still there, I still watch over you, and, most importantly, I still love you. Nothing will ever change that- you will always have my unconditional love as your mother. I will remember you as my bright, intelligent, caring, son, for that was what you were born as, and nothing can mar my memory of you as such. Someday, perhaps you will understand this. I don't expect you to now- you have already exceeded your father's and my expectations by far, and we truly are proud to call you our son.

As I have died, though, I still want you to live. I want you to be able to wake up and see the beauty of the sunrise, to hear the joy in the nesting robin's song. I wish I could help you, but no matter how hard I try, that will always be something that you must discover for yourself. Most of all, James, I want you to learn how to feel- joy, sadness, and love_. It's what makes the day worth living through, what makes _life_ worth going through. And, someday, when you do, remember me and take out this letter again. Read it, and think of your mother… think of me and remember my life. In doing so, I will never truly leave you, as long as you remember me. Try to understand, if not now, later, what I am trying to tell you._

I wish the best to you, James, for now and through the rest of your life. Do not mourn my death but celebrate my life… even more, live your own life, as well. Live it without regrets, live it by appreciating the details of each day, live it by loving someone else. Never fall to what someone else wants you to do with your life, make your own destiny. Remember me, as I will you. And, lastly, learn how to live_, it is something everybody must learn on their own- but still keep in mind your friends, who will help make it more bearable. Never forget that I am your mother and I love you._

Yours truly,

~ Nina Potter ~".

Finishing the letter, James slowly folded it up, promising himself not to read it until he felt it was time to again. And then, for the first time in his life, he cried.

*~*~*~*~*

Before she stepped inside, Lily took in the morning air, feeling herself swept up in the bittersweet nostalgia of it all again. Now, however, she felt as if something that had been bothering her was finally put to rest, that her questions, though they remained unanswered, could remain that way without disturbing her. A heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and she could breathe the air around her again without inhaling gloom and bitterness as well.

As she walked to the Great Hall, feeling lighter with each step, she noted that it was still early morning, with the sun just beginning to rise- most of the students would still be asleep. That was a good thing, she found, thankful for the few moments of solitude, for once. Pausing before the door, she turned around to take in the view of the sunrise from the large window just outside of the Great Hall.

The sunrise was indeed beautiful, giving hope and promise of a new day. Her eyes straying from the rising sun while the first rays of golden light streamed through the window, she noticed a few small sparrows singing joyfully perched on a small tree nearby. The picturesque scene reminded her vaguely of a poem.

"Hope is a thing with feathers, That perches in the soul," she murmured softly, closing her eyes, simply _feeling_ the warmth of the sunlight upon her face. It was her mother's smile, her father's kiss… it was calming.

"That sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all," a voice behind her finished for her. Opening her eyes and turning around, she met the smiling eyes of James Potter. Smiling slightly, he murmured, "Hi."

Closing her eyes and opening them again, as if to make certain of his presence, she smiled as well, acknowledging him. He always seemed to appear at the most inopportune- or, maybe, opportune- moments. Returning the greeting, she said softly, "Hi."

"Emily Dickinson," he said after a pause. Glancing out the window as well, he murmured, "Fitting for that, I suppose. It does give a person hope, scenes like that. Then again, Hogwarts seems to always provide such poetic scenes to the wrong people." At Lily's raised eyebrow, he replied, "Well, most girls would find it… romantic, of sorts. Pity it was wasted on us."

She was mildly amused to find him blushing lightly. "Not a complete waste," she said at last. "It reminds me more of my mother."

"The poem or the sunrise?" he asked, watching her stare out the window once more. She seemed to do that more often than usual lately, he had noted, staring wistfully outside when she was inside. He wondered vaguely what she would do if they were outside. Stare inside, perhaps?

"Both, I suppose," she answered. "I see your point, though- it does give a person hope either way. What I'd like to know is what it gives hope _for_." Staring out the window, she watched as the sparrows flitted from the small tree to a larger one, one of them regarding her with a wary glance through the window. So occupied was she with this scene that she almost missed his answer, a short, brief, one-word explanation which seemed to explain it all perfectly.

"Life."

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N): **Did anyone notice? It's been a year and a day since I first started this! Whoo! **Eurgh… that was bad. Poorly written… Gah, we need a new word to describe this… Over-fluffed fluff which becomes something not at all fluffy. Melodrama? Wait, that's already a word…

I was listening to Sarah McLachlan's "I Will Remember You" throughout the whole time, so I blame the song for this poorly written chapter. So sorry, people, I beg at the mercy of the reviewers for wasting your time with this, and taking so long to write it, as well (it actually turned out to be longer than expected).

Anyway… Ahem. Excuse the insert of Emily Dickinson; I read it somewhere and it just seemed fitting for the scene. **I do apologize for the fact that it's not centered or aligned; I can't upload it that way anymore, for some reason. Can anyone help me? HTML codes don't work, and even though it shows up centered when I type it on Windows, it still doesn't show up on ff.net. Is this happening to anyone else?**

To Come: Valentine's Day Ball, Gilderoy Lockhart (how could I forget him?), the leave of Leslie, and, lastly, a mention of the mysterious Peter Grismire again.

**__**

Don't forget to tell me your favorite and least favorite chapter(s)! R/R!


	23. Stolen Glances and Ruined Hallmark Momen...

Chapter 23

(A/N): Interesting feedback that I received on the last chapter. Hopefully this one is more up to par.

Just a note to you all- yes, Nina Potter and Lily have a few things in common… As for the whole "Amazing Grace" thing… I'm not sure if that really worked there. Just a personal opinion.

A note to **jchen8910:** I do agree with you that we should try to stick the facts laid out by J.K. Rowling the best way possible, and I _do_ try to do so, but there are occasional slip-ups, I'm sure you'll find. In McGonagall's words, she had said the Sirius was one of the wittier people in the group. She never said, however, that Lily _wasn't_… Hagrid had once said that both James and Lily were Head Boy and Girl of their time, and a prerequisite of that would naturally be… a display of intellectual depth, I suppose. You seem to have concerns about the way I portray Sirius- I suppose that could be done better. But you'll find later that all the characters have something more than their surface exterior… James's conversation with Remus at the beginning of Chapter 21 was something of a hint. As for James's lack of participation in all the pranks… I didn't want the story to be all about the pranks. I don't like to sporadically include them in a story when there's a lull in the plot just to hang onto a few readers- somehow, it just doesn't fit. But I suppose you have a point that he's excluding himself purposely. Thanks for pointing that out- I'll consider it in the future. 

I noticed that I forgot the disclaimer in the last chapter… terribly sorry. I'm sure J.K. Rowling won't sue me, though- I don't have that much to give.

Thanks for all the reviews!

Disclaimer: I own the plot. (That's really more of a _claimer_, isn't it?)

As the first few threads of sunlight reached past the filtering windows and drapes, Lily watched as the sun splashed its golden light across her bedspread, giving the satin sheets a warm glow. Having long since woken up, she was sitting propped up against her pillows in a crossed-legged position, a box of keepsakes, photographs, paraphernalia, and memorabilia to her right, and a thick stack of letters to her left. Just the familiar postage on the letters (her parents never did get around to buying any interesting stamps, to her childhood distaste, in great comparison to their neighbors' color-splayed stamps depicting Birds of Paradise, model cars, and land and seascapes… now it just made her sigh at the distinctness of it all in her memory) sent her reeling back in homesickness.

She remembered vaguely why she had left a day early- she had intended to stay the entire weekend, but her father's sister, whom she had met for the first time in her life, had insisted that she return to her school, which, to her, appeared to be a safer haven. And while this sufficed to her as an answer, she never got around to asking her Head Student counterpart why he had returned earlier than anticipated. After the brief conversation the two had held, they had walked into the Great Hall without exchanging any more words with each other.

Slowly sliding off her bed and unnecessarily smoothing it, she returned the box and letters to their place in her trunk under the four-poster bed. Glancing in the mirror as she passed it ("Go 'ack ta 'ed… too early for primping…") and nodding with satisfaction at her reflection while giving her ponytail a tug and straightening her cream colored turtleneck, she grabbed a light jacket and left the room. No reason to risk appearing blotchy-eyed in front of her peers and teachers.

Taking in a deep breath, she waited for some direction as to where to go. It was still early, only six-thirty in the morning, as her wristwatch told her. A brief glance outside the Common Room window and she could see the sun beginning to rise, reaching up to touch upon the towers of Hogwarts. Deciding to give the Astronomy Tower a visit- she hadn't been there since third year, when she had replaced Astronomy with Arithmetic as an elective-, she began walking up the steps leading to the stone-built tower.

As she walked past the large stone archway entrance to the tower, she caught a brief glimpse of the sun rising just beyond the trees. Breathtaking, she decided, as she walked up to the ledge for a better view. Her father had always enjoyed camping, and on many occasions had roused the family from their sleep to watch the sunrise or have them all stop their daily routine to admire the sunset. She, inheriting her grandmother's pragmatism, had missed the point in it all until now, as if the sun, as well as melting some of the previous days' snow, began to chip away the frost that had spread across her heart. Smiling, she closed her eyes, inclining her head towards the direction of the sun, as a wave of warmth washed over her.

"Sorry, am I intruding?"

Pulled out of her reverie, Lily turned to see James Potter. "What are you doing here?" She slid off the ledge, frowning. While she had a newfound interest in rising to meet the sun, she wondered what his excuse was.

"My book," he murmured, gesturing at the ledge, towards a blue hardcover book lying by her. "I left it here when I came up last night."

Picking it up from its place, she quickly read the title. "_Great Expectations_," she read out loud, arching a brow as she met his eyes. "Interesting."

Taking the book from her, he seemed to swallow a breath, biting down a few choice words and replying stiffly- trying to mask the bitterness in his voice-, "It was my mother's favorite. Anything by Dickens, actually. Depressing yet inspiring, she called it."

"I'm… sorry," she replied softly, letting her hand brush lightly over his as she passed the book to him. "I'm sure… it must sound insincere by now, but… It doesn't change the fact that I truly am sorry." Pausing to take a breath, she forced herself to look him in the eye. When she did, there was an expression there she had grown accustomed to herself- regret hidden behind a fine polish of bitterness. The intensity of the moment forced her to inhale sharply again. "You know you never did… tell me what… what really happened… when you went home."

His brow shot up in surprise, as he clearly had not anticipated the directness of her question. Seeing his clearly perplexed look, she took a step back, apologies forming on her lips when he finally replied. "It's alright, I just wasn't… expecting that." Letting out a short laugh, he said, "Most people have a tendency to avoid the subject like the plague, though I have no idea how everyone found out so quickly."

"Not everyone," she replied. "Just people intelligent enough to put two and two together. Did you really think the reporters would overlook the death of the Minister of Magic's wife?" Sighing, she shrugged, looking up at him. "Why didn't you tell me what your father did?"

"Didn't think it was necessary," he answered shortly. "I've lived my life surrounded by that world… _His_ world. I didn't want to bring that with me into my schooling. Though I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out sooner from the Daily Prophet. Sirius himself told me the resemblance was uncanny."

"And yet," she said carefully, "you never told him, either."

"Sirius was the son of family friends, but I never truly knew him until I came here," James replied. "I figured that if he hadn't figured it out already, there was no use in ruining a friendship with my father's celebrity. Remus… well, I suppose he always suspected something, but knew enough to never ask straight out."

"How was she?" Lily probed gently. "Not too painful, I hope?"

"Painful?" James laughed without much conviction. "Is there such a thing as a painless death?"

"I'm sorry," she amended quickly. "I shouldn't have asked. That was inconsiderate of me-"

"Stop apologizing," he snapped, as she quieted immediately. She looked so stricken, almost hurt, that he had the sudden urge to apologize himself, curse himself for his lack of tact. She was chewing her lip in thought, carefully avoiding his eyes. He felt a stab of annoyance that she would fall into the routine of avoidance even his friends followed. "Hey," he murmured softly, tilting her face towards him. "I'm sorry, all right? I just… I don't need everyone feeling sorry for me all the time. It's bad enough as it is without drowning in pity from others. Don't tell me you didn't feel the same when…"

Jerking out of his grasp, she nodded slightly. "How do you do it?" she asked. At the quizzical look that passed his face, she elaborated, "How do you go on without a backward glance? I'm still trying to get over it and you…"

"We're different people," he answered, setting his jaw as he looked away and leaned against the stone wall. Giving her a weary glance, he continued, "In any case, I've had more time to adjust to it than you. I've known she was dying. You… everything hit you at once."

"Still, I can't shake the feeling," she said softly. "I've said my goodbyes, I've returned to a somewhat normal daily routine, I've found that life goes on… Yet when I wake up, I still feel as though I'm missing something. How do you go on, even after all this time?"

James sighed, closing his eyes, his fingers tightening on his book. "It does get easier, though, doesn't it? My father… he never said a word to me after he left the room. I just… I don't want to believe he's heartless, but you would think he'd at least…" As he tried to finish his sentence, he found his mouth run dry.

"You do still have your father, though," Lily answered, shaking her head. "I don't see how you can't deal with this together. I just find it so hard to understand how anyone can simply just throw away that kind of…"

"I understand," he murmured. "Really, I do. I'm sure you're wondering how I could even think of everything that's lacking in my relationship with my father, and I don't expect you to understand it. But try to see it from my view… I grew up in my father's shadow. And more than that, he was the one who tried to push me out of it, pushing me to excel, to exceed the limits. But despite that, he was never really a father to me. He was always so distant… like a stranger, almost. I never… I never reached out to him when I needed someone, and he never turned to talk to me. I never really…"

"I do understand," she replied, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "Have a little faith in me, would you? I'm not so completely ignorant of you background. In fact, it really explains a lot about the way you've acted the past seven years I've known you. Makes you less of an enigma."

James opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of her expression. It was somewhat bitter. "Pity it took something of this magnitude for us to open our eyes, isn't it?" he said, not really looking for an answer. Walking the short distance between them, he joined her by the ledge. Gesturing at the lands below, he said softly, "You know, in all my years here, I never did get around to just sitting back to admire the scenery. I was always too busy with studying or working to…" Lily laughed at this, and he frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," she waved dismissively. "It's just…" she shrugged. "I never pegged you as the type to be too busy studying or doing you duties as a student. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I always accused you of truancy, and never understood how you could get such high marks when they came around. I never… believed you deserved your status as Head Boy."

"You still don't, do you?" James asked. "You think I can't handle these situations as well as I should, and I don't study as much as I should. Is that it?"

Lily took in a breath sharply again, taking a step to distance them. "Your accusation rankles, really. Don't put words in my mouth. While I do admit that yes, at the beginning of the year, I believed you to be negligent to your duties, I'm not as vindictive and petty as you think… I _do_ allow for second impressions."

James sighed. "Never mind, it doesn't really matter, I suppose. I just… I don't want you to think that I'm a slacker in all aspects. You were always telling me of all your accomplishments that it made me feel so… insignificant in comparison. Why did you do that, give me your résumé every time the words 'duty' or 'accomplishments' came up?"

She paused, thinking of an answer. At last, she replied, "I wanted you to think that I was good at my job."

"I do."

Lily laughed softly. "I thought it was unfair, how you were so instantly popular with everyone. The teachers liked you; the students respected you… For your charisma, for your personality. You never had to work for it. I did- and that always made me a little bitter. I've seen you at the meetings. They hang onto your every word; they listen. I just nod along to whatever _they_ say. All the respect I've earned… it's from pushing myself up to the top. You never had to do that. Why?"

"How did we get to this?" James asked softly, turning to meet her eyes. "We were talking about my mother, and somehow, we managed to steer the conversation to our duties to the school."

"How did we go from two strangers to complete adversaries?" Lily answered. "I suppose it's a habit… a dance, if you will. One step forward, two steps back."

James laughed, before his expression sobered. "Would you say we're taking a step forward, then?"

"I'd say this was the calm before the storm," she whispered, before wrenching her gaze away from his. She could never understand why she let him have that effect on her. It was unnerving, in ways.

Frowning, James moved away, towards the arched entrance. Sighing, he paused and turned back. "Happy Valentine's Day, Lily," he murmured softly, before disappearing completely through the archway.

Sirius Black tapped his quill against his parchment in thought.

Clearly, something was on his friend's mind. Ignoring the professor's instructions on the _precise _way to brew and stir the Bottling Potion in comparison to the Stemming Potion, he cast a sidelong glance at the friend in question, who was assiduously taking notes all the while, a small frown accompanied with a grim expression paining his face, continuously dipping his quill in the inkwell in front of him, careful not to let a single drop stain the desk or smudge his fingers.

It seemed strange, though, how the two of them could pick up on each other's moods so instantaneously, after all this time- any other person might guess James was simply too engrossed in the Professor's words to pay attention to anything else, but Sirius knew him too well to think that. His friend rarely paid attention at classes- he had either learned it all already, arranged for someone else to take notes for him, or intended to read it in the textbook later. And Sirius knew that this lesson was one James had already gone through extensively in first year, while they were picking out pranks to test on the Slytherins. The only times his friend had ever truly listened in class beyond the first ten minutes of the lecture were when he had something serious on his mind, or when he was hoping to find extra information in a subject he truly _was_ interested in… specifically, when McGonagall had gone through animagi processes. Now, however, he was not only listening, he was taking _notes_. Accurate notes. Sirius frowned.

However, he reasoned, it wasn't as if James _hadn't_ reason to be in some state of distress. With the stress from the death of his mother, he now had whispers and eyes following him everywhere, rumors running rampant. It was a well-known fact that James was _rich_. Despite his attempts at keeping it a secret, everyone had always known about his wealth- to James's deep chagrin. Yet now, the full story was out: He was the Minister of Magic's son. Of course there had been rumors before, especially over Christmas breaks, as someone would always think James's father had something of an uncanny resemblance to the Minister, but they had always been dismissed in favor of something else. Now, though, everyone had seen it in bold print in the Daily Prophet:

"_Minister of Magic, James Potter, has announced the passing of his wife, Nina Potter, over the weekend, dying of a disease in her blood that doctors failed to recognize and accurately diagnose until too late. Nina Potter was known to her friends as a vivacious, lively, caring person, and often accompanied the Minister on his tours around the wizarding world. 'She would have wanted us to remember her as she was alive,' the Minister said to one of our reporters, 'Nina was that kind of person. To celebrate her life, not to mourn her death.' While we attempted to contact the Minister's son, James Potter, we were told that he had, while at home in time to witness his mother's death, had returned to his schooling at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he holds the prestigious position of Head Boy. Hogwarts is run by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, known well for his services in the war against the Dark Arts during the times when Grindewald was at the height of his power. We have been in contact with the Minister and Professor Dumbledore, and they have asked us to refrain from any questioning of the Minister's son for the time being. We were told by the Headmaster, 'James is an excellent student here at Hogwarts, and we are proud to have him enrolled here. However, given the recent turn of events and his personal ties to it, we ask you all to please allow him privacy in his time of grief. We understand that you may wish to extend your sympathies or interview him, but please remember his needs and what is best for him at this time. While we believe James will recover from this eventually, we wish to give him the privacy we ensured him when he first enrolled here.' The Minister himself had not much to comment upon the subject of his son nor the memory of his wife, but expressed his wishes that the press leave the Potter family and the extended family on his wife's side away from the papers after running this story. The other members of his family include familiar names and faces as well, such as his brother-in-law, the famed Quidditch star, Thomas Ladend, his sister-in-law, the wife of the French Ambassador of Wizardry, Sara DuChamps, his cousin, the heiress to the Stratfordin fortune, Eliza Stratfordin and his sister, designer of her own line of clothing popular with many of today's celebrities of the wizarding world, as well as the co-founder of the 'K&S: Kismet and Serendipity' magazine, a popular read for many of the female young adult and teen audiences, featuring fashion tips, updates on major current events, and advice columns, as well. She has herself not run any major articles regarding her sister-in-law's death in her magazine, and, along with the rest of the family, requested the press to refrain from publicizing it. She told us, 'My sister-in-law was a good person, we considered ourselves sisters in all aspects of the word. This being said, my brother and I ask for you [the press] to stop regarding this as your latest news story or sordid society scandal. It was a deep loss for the close family of Nina Ladend Potter, particularly difficult for her son, James and my brother, the senior James Potter. While we appreciate all the kind gestures, please leave our family alone- my brother has enough on his mind as it is without having to run press conferences and the like. Please give us the privacy we have requested and don't cause them all more grief by bringing the subject up further…' We at The Daily Prophet are glad to oblige and extend our sincerest sympathies to the family. Nina Potter's funeral service will be held privately, this coming Saturday morning, to which all the above listed family will attend, as well as a few of Nina Potter's closest friends…_"

Sirius sighed, remembering how angry James had been, storming away with the article in one hand and his mother's copy of _Great Expectations_ in the other. James had once told him that it had been his mother's favorite Dickens classic as a child, and still read it in hard times. It appeared that his friend had adopted the habit. "There's hardly two sentences in here about my mother," James had said angrily after reading it. "All it does is talk about my family and what they're famous for. What kind of reporters are they if they consider a family death the business of the entire wizarding world? What kind of newspaper are they running, anyway? Haven't they ever heard of _privacy_, after all they've said about listening to the family's wishes? I swear, one day…" For a fleeting second, Sirius had thought James was capable of murder, and had quickly dismissed his question about why he had never told them about his family as James stormed away, presumably to the Astronomy Tower or the Quidditch pitch.

When he had disappeared again in the morning, Sirius and the rest had no idea what to make of it, a blunt note on James's pillow saying to "bloody-well leave me alone" and that he wasn't sure whether or not he'd return to classes for the day. Thorough as always, James had charmed the note with an anti-tracking spell and had brought the Marauder's Map along with him. Yet when he walked into Potions class, Sirius was surprised to see James already there, scribbling away to solve the Potions formula equation the professor had scrawled on the board.

Next to him, James paused for a millisecond- not even a heartbeat- in his note taking to glance behind him, as if trying to locate something. An expression Sirius hadn't quite caught flickered in his eyes before his eyes turned downcast to his notes, his expression even more grim than before.

Lily, sitting in the back of the Potions class, chewed her lip in thought for a moment, the feather light touch of her quill upon her cheek as she did so.

For a moment, she had thought she had seen James turn his head- a fraction of a movement as he angled his face slightly towards the back of the room, as if searching for something. Almost immediately afterward, he turned his head back to face the professor and resumed to taking notes.

Something must have been wrong, she calculated, for him to be taking notes. In their seven years at Hogwarts, she had only seen him pay attention to class a handful of times- the first few weeks in first year, before he realized he already learned the material, sometime in third or fourth year, while they were covering lycanthropes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the whole of fourth and fifth year, on the Animagi unit. And, of course, towards the start of winter break this year, before his father had come to the school. It was a habit, she realized, for him to throw himself into his studies in times of trouble.

While the professor continued singing the praises of thyme and nutmeg when mixed together, she quickly recalled their earlier conversation.

__

"It's alright, I just wasn't… expecting that." Letting out a short laugh, he said, "Most people have a tendency to avoid the subject like the plague, though I have no idea how everyone found out so quickly."

"Not everyone," she replied. "Just people intelligent enough to put two and two together. Did you really think the reporters would overlook the death of the Minister of Magic's wife?" Sighing, she shrugged, looking up at him. "Why didn't you tell me what your father did?"

"Didn't think it was necessary," he answered shortly. "I've lived my life surrounded by that world… His world. I didn't want to bring that with me into my schooling. Though I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out sooner from the Daily Prophet. Sirius himself told me the resemblance was uncanny."

"And yet," she said carefully, "you never told him, either."

Sighing, she found herself understanding, in some respects, why he had kept quiet regarding his family. She didn't understand, though, how anyone could have missed such obvious hints. She had even noted that the Minister of Magic had the same name, but then, it was a rather common name. When she had heard his family worked closely with the Ministry, she had assumed they were aurors… At the moment, she felt rather dense and oblivious to the facts, along with everyone else, unassuming and unaware until it was there in black and white before them. Not only that, but she hadn't realized James's close ties to other important figures- and once more felt sharp understanding at James's actions and blunt anger at herself for never recognizing it… How could she have missed such obvious resemblance?

But then, she countered, from his view, he must be angry the _Daily Prophet_ would run such a story. It had seemed to report more on the family than Nina Potter. In any case, it didn't seem fair that they would consider it a news story without consent from immediate family. In his place, she would have called for a retraction.

But you're _not_ him, she told herself, wondering why she even sympathized with her tormentor of seven years. Yet even she couldn't be as cruel as to hold such a petty grudge in times like these- after all, he had been kind enough to her when she had recovered from the initial shock of the news of her own parents' deaths. Kind, being, of course, a break from the usual 'no-escape' type pranks.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the Professor, now discussing the Potions formula and the multiple equations used to solve it, as Gurney Bluderbop had used to discover the Bottling Potion.

James frowned, staring only at his notes and his professor. Anywhere else and he would find a questioning gaze in his direction, a few whispers mood. He must have seen the questioning looks and giggles responding with cold indifference, before they turned their attention to the lesson.

Yet he couldn't help but chance a look towards the back of the room. In his mind, he quickly calculated that of the fifty students in the room, a result of the mixture of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, at least thirty of them knew him personally, and would often stop to talk to him while they passed each other in the hallways. Of those thirty, he knew that at least two thirds subscribed to the Daily Prophet, and they, surely, were bound to show interesting stories to friends. And, of course, there he was, on the tongues of the student population again, simply because a newspaper reporter had stuck their nose in his family's private life… "Deepest sympathies, my arse," he muttered under his breath, remembering the particular article he had read the night before, sickening him to unbelievable extents.

"You say something, mate?" Sirius gave him a quick, calculating, glance, before returning to his notes as he shook his head the negative.

Sighing, James tore off a second roll of parchment and stuffed it with the rest of his notes in a pile at the corner of his desk, wondering why the school never issued simply notebook paper, in place of the rough, stiff, parchment. _Because it's rough, stiff parchment_, he thought with grim irony. Hogwarts had never been one for technological- or even general- advances, such as electricity or regular paper. Like the dark ages, it was. Of course, the only reason he knew of the muggle works such as electricity and their inventions was because of his mother and her incessant need for him to "understand" everything.

Somehow, he felt angry, as though it were all unfair that they would expect so much of _him_, while he was just seventeen- he wanted to _live_ a little first. And however his mother had told him what they had meant in making him understand, he knew it was contradictory of what his father wanted: a younger version of himself to do all the things in life he had never done himself.

Useless, he thought, to weep about all the things that had gone wrong in their father/son relationship. Thinking of Evans, he frowned. He, at least, had a father/son relationship to weep about. She had lost both parents, who had obviously been more supportive and involved in her life than his own had ever- would ever- been. 

"This is pointless," he muttered under his breath again, snapping his textbook shut and stuffing it all in his bag. Without another word, he walked out of the classroom, under the watchful gaze of forty-nine pairs of eyes.

Lily glanced up in surprise from her seat at the small round table that seated two people. It was painted white, with chairs that came with a whimsical design of ivy to complement it. The table was set for two, though it could easily seat four and was only seating one. The tablecloth, Lily noted, was a vibrant pink, and crossed out the feature on her clipboard as she looked up. "Hi," she said without much warmth as James seated himself in the chair across from her. "Didn't think you'd show for this after that little display in Potions."

James arched a brow at "little display". Choosing to ignore it, he nodded at the pear half she was holding in her left hand, and the clipboard in her right. "Catching up on lunch?"

"Oh!" She quickly wiped her mouth of the non-existent pear juice and set it down on her plate. "Didn't I tell you? The caterers wanted our last minute opinion on the snacks and the table décor. Pear?" She slid the plate towards him.

"No, thanks," he murmured, looking over her checklist. Glancing up, he noticed her staring at him with an expression as though she had a question and were unsure of whether or not to ask. "Anything I can help you with, Evans?"

Archly, he heard her snort in disgust and mutter something under her breath. It sounded something like, "So it's Evans now, then?" Giving him another hesitant look, she chewed the inside of her cheek. "Well… I was just a little curious… How did you hide it from the rest of us about your family? I mean, they're all pretty high profile in the wizarding world, and well…"

"Is that all everyone cares about?" he snapped. "My family?"

From his angle, he saw her give him a somewhat half-skeptical half-disbelieving look. She drew a sharp breath before letting it out and snapping, "Get over it, Potter, I'm not stepping on eggshells with you anymore." Setting down her clipboard, she directed at him, "Look, I realize we've come to a… an agreement, of sorts, I suppose as to not… make each other's lives miserable anymore, I guess you could say. And yes, I'm grateful that you haven't been as horrible as you have been in the past and I appreciate it, but right now, I apologize if I'm not quite sympathetic. You obviously don't want it, and I won't waste my breath stammering apologies to you. I realize this may be horrible timing for you, what with everything unraveling right now, but I just need to know."

James sighed before smiling ruefully. "I always wondered why they made you Head Girl," he said, a twist of irony in his voice. "I used to think you didn't have the conviction or backbone to ask for what you wanted- it always seemed like a façade of false bravado. I guess I was wrong." Coughing, his eye glazed over. "My father wanted me to not be singled out by the students, and since very few of them read the Daily Prophet, no one really suspected anything. There was speculation, but besides the usual gossip, between the Professors and Dumbledore, occasional intervention of my father, they all kept it hushed up. But now… well, most of the class subscribes to _some_ paper, and they couldn't just let this one go without mentioning me. So…"

Lily nodded fractionally, before turning abruptly back to her clipboard, muttering, "One step forward, two steps back." Looking up, she gave him a weak smile. "Thanks for answering. I know how hard it can be," she seemed to slide back into her strictly professional mode again. "So… what do you think for the tablecloths? Vibrant pink, yay or nay?

Chuckling, he shook his head the negative, "Nay. I opt for the cream colored ones… Both the off-white cream and the pinkish color work, I suppose. As for the carnations… Red, white, and pink seem to work."

"And the snacks?" Lily gestured at the pears and other dishes. "We're supposed to pick thirty of the hundred here… And I can hardly remember how half of them taste."

James smirked. "Now there, I can help you…"

Peter wrinkled his nose. "What is this, the sixteenth one of its kind?" Lifting the fork to his mouth, he made a face. "Cranberry. I think it's even worse than the plum-flavored one."

Lily laughed as she took the plate of pie from him. "Alright, then… Good thing it wasn't apricot. You should have told me you were allergic."

"You don't get apricot pie very often these days," Peter defended himself. "And they can't seem to differentiate the colors aside from slightly darker shades of red… how was I supposed to know it would trigger a reaction?"

"Alright, Wormtail, we'll keep it in mind to leave you out of the recipes with apricot in them," Remus nodded, as he test-tasted a large parfait. Brushing it off and sliding it away, he noted to James, "Too much whipped cream, it feels like melted butter in my mouth."

James nodded slightly, crossing the item off the list of desserts, making a small note next to it. Food had never been his mother's forte, unlike Sirius and Evans's mothers… Nina Potter had never been known for her skills in culinary arts, and, luckily, his father had realized it early off and had hired a cook for them, who had worked with the Potter family until she died, the house-elves now in her place. _Stop it_, he told himself. _How can _food_ even remind you of her?_

"Potter?" Lily waved a hand in front of him. "Did you hear that?"

Stirred, he shook his head, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I just asked you if we should keep on the dishes with nuts," she said, a quizzical expression on her face. "You know, since a lot of the students are allergic to them? Are you sure you're alright?"

Waving a hand dismissively, James nodded, getting up. "Yeah, sure. I, er, have to get going, Evans. Herbology essay due next week, I need to… do some research."

Ignoring her protests at his retreating back that she had Herbology with him and they were never assigned an essay, he walked quickly outside, with no directional sense, letting his feet guide him for once, as they broke into a run once he stepped outside. He passed more than one startled professor as he ran past them, barricading into Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout discussing Anti-Freezing Charms and throwing a short apology behind his back. By the time he reached the doors leading to the Quidditch Pitch, he was already exhausted, yet he felt the need to keep up the running pace, the cool air a relief against his face. Leaning against the post of one of the goals, he looked up wearily.

It was painted red and gold, in preparation for the upcoming match in two weeks, towering above him ominously, as testimony that life would go on with or without him. The cold metal on his back was biting cold, yet he didn't flinch. His short breaths evaporating before him, he slid down, until he was almost sitting in the snow, a clammy hand on the post. "What am I doing?" he asked, closing his eyes in exhaustion, his head leaning backwards.

No one answered.

Drawing her hand away from the curtain and walking away from the window, Lily crossed her arms and shivered, the sweater not enough to keep her warm. "And you say he goes out there whenever something's bothering him?"

"Don't worry about it, Lily," Remus said, coming up behind her. "James has always been a little… short with us. Just leave him out there- he needs it. You understand, don't you?"

Letting out a short breath, she looked up. "What is it that you're not telling me, Remus? I can hear it in your voice. You know something, don't you?"

Raising his hands apologetically, he gave her a smile. "Sorry, I've got nothing to hide, Lily. You know all of my secrets. I just… like to speculate certain things. And right now, my guess is… Well, James only leaves people out when he cares about them. He doesn't think it's fair to load his troubles on them. Yet we were close enough to him to get him to tell us _some_ of the things he's never told us before after this… ordeal, suffice to say- so I suppose he's fine with sharing the burden a bit as he's known us for so long. But with you… it seems like he told you everything. So he either views you as a complete stranger or… he cares a great deal more about you than he lets on." At her intake of breath again, he tilted his head. "Just speculation, Lils. I could be wrong."

Lily turned to look at him. "Listen, Remus, I appreciate your 'speculation', but I just… don't think you're right."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he scoffed sarcastically, his eyes softening the edge of his words. "Really, though, Lily. James isn't that hard to figure out; you just have to look beyond the façade he's put up as defenses. You'd have to understand- he wasn't raised to wear his heart on his sleeve, but after you get around all that, he's quite willing to tell what's on his mind."

"I'd kill to know what he was thinking, sometimes," she admitted softly with a quiet sort of laugh. "But then, you've known him longer, so I suppose it'd be easier for you-"

"Hardly. Sirius and James have been acquainted far longer. Though we never probed much into Sirius's mind- he pretty much puts it all on the tables for us. Unlike James… But what I have learned is when he's in a mood like that, it's best to leave him alone, you know? He finds comfort in solitude, really."

"Really? He doesn't confide in 'the best friends the world could offer'?" Lily asked sarcastically. "I'm shocked."

"Well, we never know _quite_ what is on his mind…" Remus looked pensive. "Of course, he's perfectly willing to tell when asked, but he speaks in riddles, most of the time, so we've learned not to bother."

Lily arched a brow. "Hmm. Did it ever occur to you he did that on purpose to throw you off? You're right, Remus," she said decidedly. "He's put up a sheen of charisma to hide behind, with layers building upon layers every moment of his life. And, at the very core is a selfish git who can't bring himself to accept help."

Remus stared after her with a mixture of admiration and foreboding in his eyes, as she walked out of the room. As Sirius and Peter quickly returned to their food, he was left with a question no one would answer. Bemused, he threw the question out at the air: "D'you think she meant that?"

James, lying on his back with his hands behind his head, on the bottom most bench of the audience stands in the quidditch pitch, was surprised to find that his view of the bleak sky was obscured by a face looming in above him into view. A rather pretty face.

"I should be angry at you."

Mildly taken aback, he replied, "Reason?"

"After skipping out in Potions, you've chosen to ditch us all in favor for lying out here in the cold," she laughed mirthlessly. And he suddenly found his view blocked again by something dropped over his face… Something warm and black. As he stood and realized gratefully that she had tossed him his coat, she had taken a seat by where he had been lying. "You're lucky I don't go and tell Dumbledore to charge you with truancy and dereliction of duty."

"Should?" he asked. "You mean you're not?"

"Oh, you git, I'm trying to make this easier for you!" Lily exclaimed, jumping up from her place. Softening her words, she replied, "No, I'm not. I should be, but I understand better than most that allowances should be made. I would like to say, for the record, that you aren't doing much for yourself, though. After all, you know the only reason the professors are putting up with you is because of the recent events. Right now, you're asking for a bit too much latitude, and it won't be long before they all realize what fools they were for even letting you get away with _this_ much."

"Great, just great," he answered. "Listen, Evans- I appreciate the effort, but I know what I'm doing. Besides, you really haven't the faintest what you're talking about, so I strongly suggest you stay out of it."

Lily raised a brow, crossing her arms. "You 'strongly suggest I stay out of it'? Nice one, Potter. I'll keep out of your neck of the woods for now, but I know as well as you that when this whole thing blows over, you'll have a heck of a lot of explaining to do, and you can't just blame it all on emotional trauma. For now, I'm just going to say that you're causing a great deal more trouble than you're worth, believe me- your friends and your professors are concerned. Scuttlebutt travels far in Hogwarts- the Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws are all beginning to question your sanity, according to the articles posted on the boards by the house newspaper staffs. The Slytherins aren't at all too happy, either, that you're getting off with this much, Severus Snape in particular. Seems he still remembers all the times you've teased him enough to think you deserve it. Not to mention, the patience of several students in our own house are waning… " 

Taking a deep breath, she looked around the large pitch. In the sudden silence, she glanced over at him, and realized her words were lost to him, a distant look on his glazed eyes. Sighing, she asked, for the sake of conversation and out of sincere curiosity, "Why do you come out here?"

"Hmm? Paused in your tirade for me to get a word in edgewise at last, eh?" James said blithely. Walking up behind her, he followed her gaze. "I come here for the peace… the air up there is refreshing, and I like to sit here sometimes to imagine what it'd be like if there was a game at that moment. I just… feel more at home up there than I do down here. Less grounded, more free."

"Mmm," Lily angled her head towards the sky, turning a brilliant mix of fiery red colliding with the royal blue at sunset, a slight breeze ruffling past. "So it's more of an adrenaline thing, then? You come here to escape your woes of life?" Her words had a slight edge to them that made them come out almost bitterly.

"Something like that," he replied. "Why?"

She turned partly to face him, noting that his eyes were steady at the sky, seeing the reflection in his eyes. "No reason… Just… to know." _Great, Evans,_ she thought to herself, _have you any idea what that must sound like to him? _Just as she was about to open her mouth and take back her words, he started to reply.

"'Just to know'? Explain, Evans." Looking down to meet her eyes, he quirked a brow.

"Oh, well…" she paused, thinking. "Remus was just filling me in on how to figure out what you think… how you think. Don't know why I wanted to know, really, but it interested me. You're a bit of a mystery to the rest of us, you know that?"

James inclined his head in acknowledgement. "And this provoked you to ask…?" He had a slight smile playing at his lips, as though the subject caused him great amusement. It struck a nerve within her.

"Well, it's one of the many things I've wondered about you," she countered slowly. "How you seem so at ease up in the air, while most of us quake at the thought of dropping in head first at a hundred feet per second towards the ground." Letting out a nervous laugh, she said, "I've heard things… About how you are up there. I didn't really come to many of the matches until this year, but I did realize that they were right. You seem more at home up there."

"You think about me often, Evans?" he asked, a twinge of amusement still in his voice. "Perhaps I should retract what I said last time about being madly in love with you… It seems like you're the one who's a tad obsessed."

"You prick," she replied, giving him a light shove. "And I was just starting to think you were a nice person, too." Quite at loss for a response, James resorted to returning the shove, pushing her towards the stairs near the stands, where she held onto the railing for a bit as she steadied herself. Keeping her eyes on his face, she said slowly, "Your friends and the professors really are worried about you, Potter. For their sake, drop the act."

"And would you consider yourself a friend?" he asked softly.

Lily shook her head, brushing off the question with a wave of her hand. "No relevance, Potter. Since when has our relationship changed enough for it to be considered anything more than a rather unsuccessful acquaintanceship?"

For a short while, she waited for him to contradict her. After a few moments of awkward silence, she turned, a feeling of disappointment beginning to settle in as she swallowed a breath of fresh air to clear her mind.

Shaking her head, she walked away finally, muttering something about "ruining Hallmark moments" that he didn't quite catch.

(A/N): Eurgh, that was bad, but I'm leaving for California first thing tomorrow morning, so I don't have the time to fix it up for now. No doubt I will when I get back. Kind of sloppily written, the last scenes, wouldn't you say?

I'm sorry if I worried anybody with the author's note in the previous chapter- I just need a break from Harry Potter right now, is all. But don't worry, I have no intention of actually giving up this story or my other _A Christmas Carol_ for those of you reading it, though it may be a while before either are updated… Should be up, the next chapter, in four to six weeks.

To Come: Valentine's Day Ball, Gilderoy Lockhart, and the tying end of another bridge… Following that comes Spring, and all its glory.

**__**

Don't forget to tell me your favorite and least favorite chapters after you r/r!


	24. Sinister Cupids and Waves of Lethargy

Chapter 24

**(A/N): Terribly sorry this took so long! There's a story involved with computer problems, school work, and my faith in Harry Potter being wavered, but unless you want to watch the three-hour interpretive dance I choreographed for it, you'd best just settle for the abridged version… We just bought a new computer, and I had to transfer all my files over to it, then a few short weeks afterwards, the computer started to get all the hijinks and bugs that come with new computers… Eurgh. Then shortly after that school started, taking me by surprise at the emotional baggage train that I forgot came with school… drama, drama, drama. Of course, almost all of my trusty readers out there are familiar with my plight with Harry Potter, and my dilemma of whether or not to continue this fic, so I won't even start to go into that… At any rate, after a long, nearly six months since a _real_ update, I've decided to upload another chapter.**

Anyway, after that sad little story about my computer gone bad and my enthralling interpretive dance revolving around the mental traumas of school, there's not much else to say… Aside from that, I can only offer my most sincere apologies for not updating this sooner. I'm a horrible person, yes… Dobby will have my ears for this- I am not fit to wipe the scum off Kreacher's toes. Without further ado of my banal conversation and long introductions, I present to you… (*dramatic drum roll) The Disclaimer. But after that there's a chapter! J

Disclaimer: I own the plot. J.K. Rowling owns the talent, the money, the books, the characters, the titles… _Sheesh_, you'd think she'd share a little…

It was a dark and stormy night.

James Potter looked up to see the ravishing Lily Evans coming down the stairs. Despite having professed his undying hate for her in the past seven years, he admitted begrudgingly that she was beautiful and gorgeous as she walked down wearing a beautiful and glamorous gown, for which took three paragraphs to describe. However he remained in denial that they would one day marry and have children. All coherent thought left him, though, when she spoke suddenly.

"James."

The word was uttered softly as a trumpet blast, or some other equally unsuitable simile, and he knew that was the exact moment he fell in love with her. His mouth dropped and he said in practiced expression, "Wow, you're so gorgeous. Wiougotaballwime?"

He spoke in ridiculously similar fashion to his son, dropping his previous personality immediately. He waited on baited breath as he stared at her, thinking for a majority of the rest of the chapter of how beautiful she was. Suddenly, she smiled with a mouth full of magically whitened teeth that _Witch Weekly would award her for._

"Of course I will!" Lily swooned, in Scarlett O'Hara fashion, saying, "Oh, James!"

James caught her and kissed her for two unnecessarily long paragraphs, saying, "Oh, Lily!"

The author then awoke from a horrible literary nightmare, saying, "Oh, crap!"

****

**_Scared you, didn't I? Hehehe, sorry, that's my mini-contribution to the world of clichéd L/J spoofs. Also dedicated to all those reviewers who urge me to load on the romance… That just isn't my style, sorry. Don't worry, though… When anything does happen between those two, I promise not to remain as pathetically clichéd as I have with the rest of this story. Onto the chapter!_**

****

"Lily, toss me that when you're done, will you?"

Lily didn't look up from her position on her four-poster bed, leafing through the Valentine's Day issue of _Witch Weekly_. Rolling her eyes at an article entitled, "How to Convince Your Significant Other to Prepare a Surprise Dinner for You" and other ridiculously long and pointlessly titled articles, she replied, "Nothing useful in here, Bell. Just fashion tips and girls spilling out heir 'darkest secrets' to reporters lapping it up like dehydrated dogs… Rather pathetic, really."

"Just because you can't appreciate and embrace_ normality_," Evelyn answered, attempting to put a pair of crystal teardrop earrings whilst also stretching her right foot out for a shoe that was tantalizingly just out of reach. "Honestly, Lils, I don't see how you can live like that."

Dropping the magazine with a bemused expression, she answered, "Oh, woe is me; normality once again slips away with the elusive silk of adversity destined to smother me for all the days of my woebegone life. How will I go on?"

Leaving the magazine on the bed, the cover picture of a girl with unnaturally flawless skin primping before a mirror, Lily moved towards the lighted mirrors before which her friends were, in similar manner to the magazine model, busily primping and gazing into their reflections critically. "Really, I can't understand for the life of me why on _earth_ so much emphasis is placed on your appearance. It almost makes us sound as though we were shallow and concerned only with surface looks." 

"Lily, you think too much," she said missing the sarcasm, followed by a cry of triumph as she slid her foot into the shoe, only to let out a yelp of pain as the earring pierced into her skin. Eyes watering slightly, she continued, "In any case, you're hardly one to speak, if you truly _are _going to the Valentine's Day Ball like _that_…" She shuddered slightly as if the concept frightened her.

Lily raised a brow. "What, in something 'less than designer gown' material?" Shaking her head and sliding off the bed, she said delicately, "There _are_ more important things than clothes and cosmetics, Ev. I, for one, wouldn't even be going to this Ball if it weren't for the fact the Leslie's leaving tomorrow and it was mandatory as my part of Head Girl. What's your excuse?"

"Well, Thomas Dulfane asked me out," Evelyn murmured, "and I just thought, 'Well, it'd be rude to turn him down on Valentine's Day, wouldn't it?' _So_… _That's_ my excuse, dearie." Turning pointedly to Bella, she asked, "Wouldn't you say so, Bella?"

"Precisely," Bella agreed. "You see, it's the same thing with me. After Charles Hollybrook asked me, I just _couldn't_ say no."

"See, now that's your problem," Lily smiled, walking up to Bella. "You can't say no to these poor guys. And you _know_ you won't see them at all outside of school, you probably don't even intend to speak to them after tonight, and still, you agreed to meet them." Helping her friend charm her hair, she finished, "What's the point? Why don't you just put them out of their misery already?"

Evelyn twirled a strand of her hair around her wand, murmuring a Curling Charm under her breath, while a bottle of nail polish was busily giving her a pedicure without any apparent assistance. 

"_That's_ the point, Lily," she answered. "This is our _seventh_ year. We're practically adults- and right now, what we're doing is looking for, well, you know, someone we might be able to settle down with _after_ we graduate. We're not… 'husband hunting', don't get me wrong, we just don't want to fall flat on our faces as soon as we graduate by marrying the first bloke off the street because he's something different from the boys at school… We want to filter everything out first, you know? And the whole process is so much easier when you've known them all for seven years."

Lily laughed, preparing to walk out of the door as her friend slowly unwound her hair from her wand, only to give a disbelieving cry as her hair fell limply to its place. "Good luck with that, Ev."

Lily stepped lightly into the Great Hall, eyes widening slightly at the sparse appearance, save for a few boxes lying around the polished floor. The Decorating Committee, it seemed, was late, save for a single person sitting on one of the boxes, fiddling with his wand and sending random sparks off occasionally.

Upon a discreet cough, he turned around… Unexpectedly, he stood and walked towards her. "Evans," he inclined his head in acknowledgement. "What are you doing here?"

Unable to hide her surprise, she blurted, "Severus, what are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm a prefect, Evans. Unless that much has really escaped your notice for the past three years," he answered coolly. At her unsatisfied expression, he said briskly, "I assume you have no date, either, then."

"Pardon?"

He gave her a disdainful smirk as he began unpacking the boxes. "Welcome to the ranks of the scorned and castaways of society. Did you really think anyone ever came to these pointless pre-ball preparation meetings? They all have places to go and people to meet. Most prefects," he said this with a bitter voice as he roughly shoved a box of decorations in her arms, "would much rather spend the hours before the ball lamenting over their tragically hideous faces than set up for the ball itself. The only people that come for these things are the rejected and disliked."

"Still the eternal pessimist, I see," she answered passively, picking through the surplus of decorations in a hunt for something that wasn't quite as frilly as everything else. "And you say it with such bitterness; one would think you didn't _enjoy being alone and spiteful. Dare I say it, Severus Snape wants a friend." She ignored the glare he sent her way. "You know, I pity you, I really do. While you rot away some forty years from now, with no real friends and nothing but gloom to keep you company, I'll be-"_

"Happily married to the likes of Golden Boy Potter and spending all your time running after all your disgustingly happy little children, I know," he cut her off, with a self-satisfied smirk. "Though I feel somehow you're worse off in the end."

Frowning, Lily held her tongue, unable to find a tactful answer. Snape, she knew had always been the bitter and resentful type- the most interaction she'd ever had with him in the past seven years, not counting brief words at prefect meetings, was in fifth year, one of the more… memorable moments in her lifetime. Though, she reasoned, no one _had_ been behaving quite like themselves that day. Finding her voice, she said briskly, "I'd refrain from further comments of that nature, Severus, please let me remind you, while you are a prefect, _I_ am your Head Girl."

"Pulling rank, Evans? You're a hypocrite, just as bad as _him_," he spat out the last word with distaste.

After a brief pause, she answered coldly, "Let me assure you, Snape, that I have even less desire to be here than you. However, should you make another comment regarding myself or James Potter, I _promise_ you I'll-"

"You'll what?" Snape spoke softly. "Dock points from my house? File a complaint against me? Remove me from the position of prefect? Believe me, Evans, there are worse things." With a muttered curse, he dropped a box of decorations on his foot. Grimacing, he said, "Such as that."

In spite of herself, Lily found the corners of her mouth twitching. "Physical pain, you mean?" she asked, taking the box from him. "Funny, one would think you'd be proud to have the opportunity to be a prefect and serve your school."

Snape gave her a furtive glance, a smirk playing at his lips. "Oh, yes, Evans, how lucky of me, I'm just tickled pink with the thought of it. I live and breathe to serve under our motto, _Draco Dromiens Nunquam Titillandos_… Never tickle the sleeping dragon. How… appropriate."

Laughing, Lily replied, "Well, the name's not much for thought, either. Hogwarts. I laughed every time I heard it in my first year. It takes a bit of getting used to, I suppose."

"Yes, I suppose it does," Snape said, laughing. He caught himself, an unreadable expression flickering past his eyes. He didn't say anything, though the air between them suddenly became chilly. A particularly ugly look then fell on his face as he said with cold indifference, "Of course, it is a wonder you survived your first year. What with you being a muggleborn and all, I mean. After all, that practically makes you an open target for ridicule, doesn't it?"

Lily blinked in surprise, before a disgusted look came on her face as she dropped the box. "I'm going to work over on the other side," she said, striding across the hall. Over her shoulder, she said, "Once you're done being a heartless bastard, call me."

"So, with the entire female population at your feet, you choose to go to the dance by yourself?" Sirius shook his head. "C'mon, mate, there must be someone here who you can go with; there's still time."

James watched Sirius's reflection in his mirror, rummaging through an old shoe box of pictures. His shirt slightly wrinkled, cuffs unbuttoned, and tie undone, he could imagine the look of disappointment on his father's face. Turning from the mirror, he sighed, running a hand through his hair in trepidation. "Be sensible, Black, there's a reason why that's called the 'Ex Box'. There's something lacking in all of them."

That was partially true. Everyone in that shoe box was lacking something in personality, intellect, or general ability to _live_. The 'Ex Box' as it had been so dubbed back in their second year, was a shoebox full of pictures of, predictably, all of the exes of the Marauders. A good number of them were his and Sirius's, though, on occasion, he might find one of Remus's, or, rarer still, one of Peter's. The former because he either wasn't looking for a relationship or when he did find a girl, he'd settle for a long-term relationship, the latter because he had a hard enough time finding a girl to date, let alone break up with. Still, James didn't consider himself that much of a sadist- he didn't _enjoy_ looking at the pictures of him with other girls that fawned over him with near-frightening adoration. But more than the fact that there was something lacking in all those girls was the fact that he didn't enjoy their company. The clingy, air headed type grew tiring and boring after a while, as he'd discovered over the past summer, and he had more pressing matters to concern himself with than a girl.

Ignoring his words, Sirius picked up a picture of a pretty Ravenclaw giggling and flirting with the photographic version of James. "Lisa Pearson. Sixth year fling, lasted approximately two weeks. What about her?"

"Last I heard, she was dating Howard Fortenescue," James replied curtly, fixing his tie. The damned thing was impossible, more like a noose than a tie. The thought of hanging himself with his tie might bring a smile to Lily's face though, he mused, and a smile was rare from her these days. He stored this bit of information in the back of his memory, focusing on Sirius's words. "Good riddance. I'm well rid of her; couldn't hold a conversation with that walking thesaurus."

Sirius dropped the picture back into the box, picking up another. "Eloise Sigmund. Can't remember that one much; never ate anything but salad and grapefruit, right?" Tossing that one out, he picked up another. "Haley Beatrice… She was nice. Lasted about a month, in fourth year. What was wrong with her?"

"She laughed like a hyena," James said without missing a beat. Picking up a cookie from the tray on the desk, he wandered over. Rifling through the photographs, he wondered vaguely which ones had been his and which had been Sirius's. Half the girls in the picture he'd already forgotten, though one of the faces that blinked up at him struck a chord of familiarity. 

Picking up the picture, he said, "Eliza Cannon. Now there's a winner; loved my quidditch position more than me, told all her friends we were dating before the fact. Then she threatened to… er, you know… if I didn't date her. Lasted four months, during which I lived in fear of never being able to grace my parents with grandkids."

Shuddering at the thought, Sirius picked up another picture. "How many of these girls do you actually _remember_, James? I do believe your first girlfriend was in second year, after you'd joined the quidditch team."

"Alana Smithsbrook. My father's colleague's daughter. She was three years ahead of us; my father set us up," James scoffed. More like a business transaction, in actuality. She had thought him cute and sweet, and nothing more, but had obligingly done it on her father's request. "Come to think of it, a third of these girls were probably used for the benefit of my father's business."

Sirius chuckled grimly. "Lucky you. If it were up to my parents, most of my choices would be in the Slytherin House. Hell, I'd probably be dating Narcissa right now, never mind it's practically incest. _Toujours Pur_," he said bitterly, chucking another photograph in the box. Picking up another picture, he did a double take. Grinning, he said, "Prongsy-boy, you never told me you dated Evelyn."

"Biggest mistake in my dating history… besides Eliza Cannon, of course," James said, dropping the picture back in the book. "Don't know why she and Evans are friends, they don't seem to have much in common, do they? I suppose it's one of those girl things. Here's one of yours, mate, Jasmine Patel. She's dating some bloke who graduated a few years ago now, isn't she?"

Sirius shrugged indifferently, picking through the photographs before a wicked grin fell on his face. "Here's someone you haven't considered," he grinned. "Dear Miss Lily, our Head Girl."

Snatching the picture back, James frowned. It had been taken some time ago, he realized, as she still had her braces that had been removed in the summer before fifth year. "Sirius, don't tell me _you_ dated her? Or did Remus? Hey, why the hell is _she_ in here, anyway?"

"Believe it or not, it was Peter," Sirius chuckled. "Out of pity, I should think, way back in our first year. But then again, she's really come a long way since then, don't you think?"

James stared down at the picture. She had braces in the picture, and her hair had been braided into pigtails, freckles dashed like pepper across her nose. She really had been a tiny person back then, he realized. He vaguely remembered being mildly surprised when, in fifth year, she had suddenly shot up two inches over the summer, braces gone and a Prefect's badge pinned on her sweater. He was dismayed to find the corners of his mouth twitching at the thought of how she had given him detention for staring at her chest their first day back. Feigning indifference, he tossed the picture back in the pile.

"I never really noticed."

Sirius gave him a disbelieving look. "Oh, really? I seem to remember our fifth year, and a certain Prongsy-boy getting a detention for staring at our Miss Evans's new… ahem, _feminine attributes_ the first day back. You were quite taken with her that year, weren't you? Only, she wasn't quite ready to drop the vendetta, was she?"

"Come off it, Black."

Sirius grinned. "She compared you to the Giant Squid after you asked her out. I must say, James, what a time for your usual debonair qualities to fail you."

James kept himself from wincing at the memory. It had been two years ago, right after they had taken their OWLs, yet his memory of that day was as vivid as ever. As Severus Snape's probably was, as well. Still, one good thing had come out of that humiliating episode: any feelings for Lily Evans in a positive light had been quickly shed and replaced by the former loathing and malice of the years before. But then, he pondered, perhaps that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"I was young," James answered dryly, cuffing his friend on the head, ignoring the fact that it was just two years ago. "And stupid. And young, stupid, callow youths do tend to fall for astonishingly pretty girls."

"Ay, love does that to us," Sirius chuckled sagely, pretending not to see the glare James aimed at him. He then blinked, as the words sunk in, before saying, "You think she's astonishingly pretty? I never knew, Prongsy. In fact, I'm hurt at the fact you didn't tell me. And here I thought I was your best mate."

"Too late to eat my words?" James stood, picking up a comb. Realizing it was the one that Lily had given him for Christmas, he put it down halfway through his actions, using Remus's instead. "I'll give you this- In the aesthetic department, she's not badly off, but if you want to talk personality flaws…"

"You didn't think so in our fifth year," Sirius said lazily. "Sure, you acted as though you hated her, but we all knew you were madly in love with you. Rejected in the end, though. Bad luck, Prongs, but I suppose karma catches up to you eventually. I must say, who could blame her, really? You were a bit of an idiot."

"_Me? We were all idiots, including you. Thank Merlin I moved on after that… rejection." Pretending the thought mortally wounded him, James feigned a look of despair. "Come to think of it, that was probably the best thing she ever did for me."_

Lying on his side, Sirius flicked the pictures back into the box with his wand. "Moved on, have you? I wouldn't say so, Prongs. More like put a temporary halt to your emotions that eat away your mortality like maggots do a dead horse."

"While I thank you for the lovely thought," James wrinkled his nose in disgust, "I'm afraid I must go. I have to meet the lovely Miss Evans now for decorating the Great Hall."

"Suit yourself," Sirius said, rolling over on the bed. "But let me tell you, if you continue to blow me off once you're married, you better make me the best man at the wedding and the godfather of all your kids. Hell, at this rate, you better name your firstborn after me- what with all the sacrifices I'm making for surrendering your company to her."

James shook his head as he swung open the portrait hole, shuddering at the thought. Testing the name, he said aloud, "Sirius Junior." 

Shaking his head again to clear the thought from his mind, he stepped off in the direction of the Great Hall.

Lily was only vaguely aware of hearing the muttered oath across the side of the hall (presumably Snape's, probably hurt himself, the slime ball) before hearing someone walk in, whistling. While Severus's last remark couldn't have been unexpected (having endured it from the other Slytherins for the past seven years), she still felt a sting of hurt. She had let her guard down, she realized, and resolved never to let that happen again. Releasing a chubby chuckling cherub from its cardboard prison, she watched it float off into the distance, while it began loading several lethal looking darts and arrows, characterized by their pink glittery wings. She wondered if the cherub actually intended to shoot them at the people attending the ball.

"Holding up well without me, I see," the familiar voice of James Potter said behind her shoulder.

Just what she needed… _His _company. But then, she mused, it might actually be an improvement compared to Severus Snape. Remembering Snape's words, she quickly banished the thought and busied herself with a box lined with welcoming banners.

Not turning around, she said indifferently, "The world does continue to spin when you're not in the room, Potter."

"Does it?" She couldn't resist turning around at his innocently curious expression, to find the playful grin on his lips. He continued, tossing a casual glance in Snape's direction, "I decided to take pity on you and come, given the fact that no one should have _his_ company foisted on them at any cost."

She pursed her lips. "You're not much of an improvement yourself, James. Though I do thank you for remembering me."

"How could I forget about you?" he asked teasingly, before stooping to pick up a box. Inspecting its contents, he gave her a cocky grin and said, "Ah, of course. The usual frilly pink fluff. Lockhart Heaven, it seems. Who'd we get to cater this pink disaster?"

Suppressing a smile, she answered, "The Lockhart Catering Company, who else? Why, Gilderoy Lockhart's family has been in the catering business for several generations now, it's hardly a wonder what that boy will do when he graduates. He tells me he's torn, though, saying that while catering might be his destiny, he wishes to become an auror. Bold lad, if I ever met one."

"Some of us aren't so lucky in our genealogy," James replied softly. "Catering would be an improvement. But then, Sirius isn't the luckiest chap in the world either. What's that saying- you can pick your friends but not your family?"

Lily frowned. "Aren't his parents friends with yours?"

James laughed dryly, flicking a few tables in place with his wand. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

She frowned, staring at him. "You did. You've always said as much."

James didn't reply, letting her words hang in the air between them as he set up the chairs around the table, the silverware taking its place at the tables. He remained mute as she watched him, a myriad of emotions flickering past the hazel gaze. She sighed, picking up a long banner. Clearly he didn't want to have this conversation. "Come on, James, help me with this banner; hold it while I tack it up."

"They aren't, you know," he said softly as he picked up the other end of the cloth banner.

"Pardon?"

"My parents aren't friends with Sirius's parents," he elaborated. "And I'm sorry if I led you to think that. For a while, I think they were friends- never let it be said that politics won't go corrupt eventually- because of the fact that Sirius's parents are among the elite of society. They made generous donations to the ministry, and my father appreciated it."

"I knew your lot was spoiled rich," she shook her head. "I suppose Remus and Peter are as well?"

James gave her another look that told her clearly she was wrong. "Remus and Peter aren't rich. That doesn't mean they aren't good people, though. Do you really think that low of me, that I'm some spoiled rich boy who only became Head Boy because of his father?"

With a wave of impatience, she said, "We had this conversation this morning."

"Yes, we did," he murmured softly, holding her gaze. Abruptly looking away, he continued as though she hadn't interrupted, "Sirius's parents have been making donations to fund the ministry for years- they're also one of the longest lines of pure blood wizards in record. The Noble House of Black, _Toujours Pur."_

Wracking her memory for lessons in French, she translated, "Always Pure. Appropriate motto, I suppose."

"Very," James nodded, glancing up to meet her eyes briefly. "They've always prided themselves in their bloodlines, but then, most wizarding families do. Even my father…" James trailed off, as though to say something else, before continuing, "But that wasn't the reason why the alliance between the Potters and the Blacks broke down. The Blacks were a little more… extreme in their views towards muggleborns, and I suppose that was when my grandfather decided to sever all ties with them." At her glance, James said quickly, "Oh, my grandfather wasn't the Minister of Magic. He was very close to him, though, and the Minister himself helped prepare my father to run for the office once he resigned. My grandfather was an Unspeakable, he worked in the Department of Mysteries, one of the first to work in that department. It was relatively new when he joined."

"So working in the Ministry is somewhat of a family tradition, then?"

James let out a hollow laugh as he held up the banner. "You could say that. Along with stubbornness and a knack for finding trouble," he winked. "Anyway, my grandfather was pretty influential in the Ministry, and when he alienated the Blacks, he was setting a trend for the rest of us. My father didn't seem to appreciate this fact, and ignored what my grandfather said about it; they even had a big row over it when I was eight. In the end, my father admitted he was in the wrong, though, and the Blacks no longer had their death grip on the Ministry. Don't you remember our first year, when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor? Half the house refused to talk to him for the first week because of the Blacks' reputation. I suppose that's how Sirius, Peter, Remus, and me all ended up together. The outcast and misfits. At the time, anyway."

"My, my, what a long way we've come," Lily murmured. Shaking her head as she muttered a sticking charm, she leaned back against the wall, staring at him with an amused smile playing at her lips. At his questioning look, she said, waving a hand towards his wrinkled shirt and tie, "Get dressed in the dark today?"

He glanced down, furrowing his eyebrows. He then said blandly, "I never liked the fact that we had a tie as part of our uniform."

Letting out a stifled laugh, she took a step closer, gesturing towards the tie, "May I?"

"By all means," he inclined his head.

"You know, my mother always did my father's tie for him whenever they were getting ready for formal parties," she murmured, as she undid the knot. "I used to watch them with my sister from the top of the stairs. Of course, that was when my sister and I were still on speaking terms."

He didn't respond, but, rather, fixed his eyes resolutely a few centimeters above the top of her head, ignoring the fact that he could smell her familiar shampoo from his position.

"You're lucky, in many ways, actually," she continued, apparently dissatisfied as she looped the tie again. "For one, you've never had to live with my sister."

"I remember meeting her… vaguely, anyway. She glared at me the entire time, didn't she?" He continued to stare above her, eyes transfixed on the crystal chandelier Beauxbatons had given them a few years back. "What a lovely, mild-tempered girl."

Lily laughed softly, now fixing his collar. "You think so? She labeled me the prodigal daughter after I came back from my first year at Hogwarts and convinced herself that I was mum and dad's favorite child. You're lucky you're an only child."

"Am I?" he quirked a brow as she glanced up to meet his eyes. He smiled slightly. "I always wanted a younger brother. Someone who might actually listen to what I said. Though Sirius pretty much told me the same thing when I told him I wanted a sibling."

"Ah, you poor, attention-starved boy," she smiled, smoothing the collar. "I must ask, how many people actually fall for that ploy? What with you pushing everyone off, and all?"

"_Touché," he inclined his head. "Are you done yet?"_

"Almost," she gave the tie one last tug. Smiling slightly at the almost boyish impatience evident on his face, she smoothed the color and straightened the tie. Stepping back, she reached up and adjusted the tie again. He snorted with impatience and rolled his eyes. Ignoring this, she stepped back again, giving it one last pat before saying, "There. Done."

"You sound like my mother," he said with disdain as he turned his back to her to open a box of decorations. In an accusing falsetto, he said, "'Oh, James, your tie isn't straight enough. Let me spend three hours fixing it while I tell you about everything and nothing until neither of us can tell the difference.' Honestly, I say, to hell with the damned thing, it's more like a noose than a tie."

She laughed…. He could always make her laugh.

James allowed the crowd to push past him, leaning against a wall whilst watching the other prefects dancing. It was like clockwork, each partner spinning and rotating in perfect sync, knowing their partner's next move before they did it. Rather boring, though, in its predictability.

"Hey," a soft voice said at his right. "Don't you get tired of watching that same old routine every year? Rather predictable, after a while."

He smiled slightly, angling his head slightly to see her. "Never realized it was this boring on the other side, though," he mused. "I mean, I thought it was bad enough to be dancing, but I never realized our spectators enjoyed it about as much as us. If no one enjoys it, why do it?"

Lily laughed slightly, jerking a thumb in the direction of the teacher's table. "They enjoy it, didn't you know? They enjoy with a vindictive pleasure watching us do this for all the times they did it in school, and the same for their teachers… I suppose we only do it out of tradition. Though tradition in itself gets to be ridiculous after a while, as its pretty anti-progress when all society talks about these days is advancement."

James smiled easily, shifting slightly again so he was facing her. "Ah, yes, the wonders of the ever-changing paradox that we live in," he said with a pompous air. "Of course, some of us find more than others."

Just then, they backed away as a large cluster of students rushed to the dance floor. One fourth year bumped into him, her eyes widening in horror when she recognized him. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to!" she said, as if in fear of what he'd say. A look that was unmistakably relief washed over her eyes as he tossed her a smile and waved a hand with indifference. She then rushed off to join her friends, tossing a glance back at him while whispering to her friend.

Lily chuckled slightly. "Then again, there are benefits."

James gave her a funny look. "What, star-struck teenagers? I've seen enough of those, thank you," he replied, leaning back and crossing his arms. "If that was a benefit, don't you think my father would have allowed his position to be known? Rather, he decided to make a deal with Dumbledore; I would attend Hogwarts so long as they could have complete secrecy about it. Thus, every time the thought ever entered their minds- associating me with the Minister of Magic- their memories were modified immediately. Don't know how they arranged it, but… it was done. They wanted to give me a normal upbringing."

He seemed to think this last statement was very funny, for then he laughed, and for once, his eyes didn't seem to be telling otherwise. He gestured back at the slowly revolving dancers on the floor. "Back in my first year, I remember sneaking into the Christmas Ball with Sirius and Remus after everyone else in our dorm had gone to sleep. We stole a bit of food and were half-way across the floor when a bunch of seventh year girls spotted us and started exclaiming how cute and adorable we were. We got off alright, though, as the Head Girl danced with me and I charmed her into letting us go without telling McGonagall… We always did manage to get out of the worst of situations." He tilted his head, studying her face before saying, "Until you were made a prefect, of course."

"Fifth year?" Lily wrinkled her nose. "You were a nasty little kid, I must say, and you deserved it. I seem to remember our first day back; you were staring at… well, you were staring in a way that certainly screamed detention all over it. Perverse git."

"I was fifteen," he said in his defense. "And for the first time, you looked, well, pretty. Blame it on the hormones; even McGonagall was laughing when you issued that detention. Most girls would have considered it a complement."

She rolled her eyes, giving a snort of disgust. "Oh, yes, what a complement to be stared at as though I were a piece of meat before a hungry dog."

James gave her a flippant smile, before glancing down at her choice of clothing. At her raised brow, he said in explanation, "For someone who spent nearly an hour fixing my tie, you don't seem to have given much thought to your own personal appearance." As her brow rose further, he added, "Not, of course, that _I care about that sort of thing, but most girls wouldn't…"_

"Go to the ball in less-that-designer-gown material?" she finished for him. Her choice to wear the simple white turtleneck and red plaid skirt had already been commented on, he gathered, as she seemed annoyed with his questioning. "Evelyn already commented on that, but by all means, do the same. But let me just pose this question to you; I'm not really here by choice, I'd much rather be in the library or in the common room studying, and there's no _real_ rule against my dress code, so… why bother worrying about what they think? It's not as though I'm here to sit and look pretty in front of a bunch of moronic idiots that can't string two sentences together when they're in front of a pretty girl. What's the point?"

"_Touché," he inclined his head. "Commendable, as well. I was just about to say, most girls wouldn't have the… __courage to come to a ball without the usual gown and ornate accessories."_

"There's a reason I was sorted into Gryffindor," she gave him a smile. "Though I like to think my fashion-sense had less to do with it."

"Lily? Are you even listening to me?" Evelyn waved a hand before her friend, annoyed. "Lily?"

Distracted, she turned. "Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, Ev, what were you saying?"

Evelyn sniffed indignantly, letting out a quick, "Oh, never mind!" before huffing off to explain her woes to someone else, namely, her date. Lily turned, pouring herself a glass of Butterbeer made a curious shade of pink, presumably for holiday purposes. In the past twenty minutes, she had been standing behind the refreshments table, pouring Butterbeer and punch to thirsty dancers, whilst entertaining curious glances from the usual school gossips, no doubt pondering her choice of dress.

As if summoned by this thought, one pretty black-haired Ravenclaw seventh year casually walked up to her table, under the guise of retrieving more Butterbeer, before asking, "So, Lily Evans… I believe we've made each other's acquaintance at Prefect meetings. I'm Tessa Burbank."

Lily neither acknowledged this nor ignored this, continuing with pouring her Butterbeer. At Tessa's expectant look, she sighed irritably, pasting a polite smile on her lips and replying, "Yes, I remember seeing you before. You were always rather quiet in the background, though, so forgive me for not noticing you before. May I help you?"

A rather ugly look came across her face as she said flippantly, "You know, I was the other candidate for Head Girl, and I have _many_ friends, Lily. You do _not_ want me for an enemy."

Lily almost laughed at this, as she had hardly ever considered Tessa Burbank a threat before, and would probably never do so now, once she had shone a light on the fact that she had no real power in the school besides hiding behind her parents' name.  Lifting a cool and appraising brow, the corner of her mouth upturned slightly before she responded softly, "Oh, yes, I know. Now, will that be all, or would your many friends like a refill of drink as well?"

A false bubbly expression replaced the look of venom in Tessa's eyes, as she replied, "Well, my friends and I were wondering," at this point, she turned her head with a swish of her curled, dark hair and waved at her whispering friends, before turning back and sweeping a look over Lily, "What exactly were you thinking when you chose to wear this… tasteful ensemble? After all, your fashion sense is hardly rivaled by anyone at this school, and we were wondering… Perhaps recent events may have contributed to this sudden… difference in style?"

Lily stiffened slightly, before she smirked, handing Tessa back her drink. "I do apologize for having misled you to believe I concern myself with what you and your friends think, Tessa," she said sincerely. When Tessa refused to accept the glass, she shoved it into her hand, saying, "And your question has been asked before, so I suggest you go and find someone who cares."

In a huff, Tessa left, no doubt to carry on gossiping with her friends about the Head Girl. Throwing a backwards glance at her, she returned to her vicious circle of gossips, as they all circled around her in a cluster similar to a colony of bees to their queen.

"And a happy holiday to you, too," she muttered under her breath, jerkily pouring herself a glass and drinking it quickly.

Some thirty-one glasses of Special Valentine's Day Edition Butterbeer later, Lily had noticed the room had begun to grow steadily pinker, almost to a revolting sea of the color. Besides that, her vision was rather hazy, and she was only vaguely aware of the incessant chatter coming from Bella to the left of her.

"Lily, are you alright?" Bella asked abruptly, frowning as Lily stared past her with a dazed smile on her face.

"O'course I'm alright," she slurred slightly, squinting down at Bella. The room had become an ocean of pink, fluttering hearts, the only clear image in her mind being the two rather sinister looking cupids laughing and grunting stupidly amongst themselves, occasionally glancing down at her. "Why wouldn't I be alright? I… am perfectly… fine… I think."

Lily smiled stupidly again, pouring herself another glass of butterbeer, and had raised it to her lips when Bella snatched the glass away from her. Ignoring the indignant cry from Lily, she sniffed the offending drink with an expression of distaste on her face. "Eurgh, Lily, no wonder. Someone's done something to the butterbeer. You'd best get yourself cleaned up and go see Madame Pomfrey. Goodness knows how many other students have been drinking that… substance. Lily… Lily?"

Lily had managed to wander back to the bowl of butterbeer just as Bella swiveled around and steered her away from the drink. "Oh, no you don't," she muttered under her breath. "No more of that nasty stuff for you, who knows what's been put into it. Smells foul, don't know why anyone would drink it in the first place."

"Don't be daft, Bella, I'm perfectly fine," she answered- or at least tried to say. Instead, what came out was an unbecoming belch.

"Excuse you," Bella replied with a look of disgust. Shaking her head, she steered Lily towards a cluster of chairs. As if speaking to a small child, she said slowly, instructing her, "Stay here, alright? I'm going to go find Madame Pomfrey so she can- Argh! This is useless; you're not listening to a word I'm saying."

"Sure I am," Lily slurred again, before her head lolled onto her shoulders as she laughed stupidly.

Bella sighed, searching the crowd. Finally spotting someone, she beckoned Leslie over.

Leslie raised a brow at the state her friend was in, sending a questioning glance at Bella. Lily, meanwhile, began mumbling something about Gilderoy Lockhart and fluffy pink bunnies.

"I think there was something in the butterbeer she drank," Bella explained, tossing a look at Lily. "I was just going to send her to Madame Pomfrey, but in the state she's in, I honestly don't think she can make it up the stairs. And really, I can't leave her here to go speak to Madame Pomfrey, that's just as bad. Do you think you could…?"

Leslie stole a glance at Lily, who was in a rather delirious state, and nodded quickly.

"Stay awake, Lily, Bella will be back soon," Leslie said, as Lily began dozing off.

Really, it had been nearly twenty minutes, and the pink haze was growing thicker and thicker as the time wore on. Closing her eyes helped a bit, but Leslie kept prodding her awake. A bit annoying, really. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt a stab of guilt that Leslie was spending her last night at Hogwarts watching after her, but the overwhelming hazy pinkness of her thoughts quickly took over the guilt. At some point, she registered Leslie addressing someone else, and tried to quiet the deafening roar in her ears to hear the conversation.

"She's _what?" a male voice, suspiciously familiar actually, asked, rather close to her._

"Drunk," a worried voice, presumably Leslie's, answered. "Or at least, we think so. Bella went off to find Madame Pomfrey nearly half an hour ago, but she's tied up right now with a bunch of other sick students- apparently some second year girls burned their faces trying make-up charms or something like that. Anyway, I'm going to go check and see if Madame Pomfrey can manage to send down some antidotes or potions, but I really can't leave her alone. Seems to be a bit of a hazard to herself in this state, so-"

"Don't worry, I've got her," the second voice answered, and she felt herself being handed off to another person, someone taller, and very… warm. After a moment of pause, the voice said, "What? Don't look at me like that. I know we don't get on very well, but I'm not going to do anything cruel when she's in a state like this."

"Potter?" she asked, turning her face upwards, squinting up at him. Instead, she managed to bump her forehead into his chin, and closed her eyes, wincing. "Ow," she moaned softly, rubbing the spot. "Daft git."

She felt, rather than heard, him chuckle, before hearing, "See? You should be more worried about me. Better hurry back, though, who knows what other damage she can inflict on me by the time you get back here."

Poking an eye open, she saw Leslie give her a worried look before hurrying off. Once Leslie had left, she pushed herself away from him, mumbling, "Get _off me, Potter, I don't need a keeper." Though it killed to open both her eyes, she managed to pry them open and amble a few steps away before he caught up in two quick strides._

"You're quite stubborn, you know that, right?" he muttered, pulling her towards him to the dance floor. "C'mon, you don't want to sit, and I can't leave you alone, so we might as well dance. Once, for old time's sake." Not waiting for a reply, he half dragged her there, placing her hands around his neck for support. "You are one piece of work, Evans."

Lily laughed shortly, not quite sure at what, her head dropping towards his shoulder. He fought down a laugh as she mumbled, "Ah, you know you love me."

Reflecting, he sighed softly, wondering how he had gotten to this situation. The whole reason he'd been looking forward to this dance was because McGonagall had decided that they should have a break from opening the ball every time, yet he'd ended up dancing with her anyway. Though he couldn't find many complaints, as he found himself slowly adjusting to the dim light on the floor, admitting there were worse things than dancing with Lily Evans. Dead drunk, of course, but that was beside the point, as he liked her much better when she didn't talk, anyway.

"You smell nice," she slurred, as he rested his chin at the top of her head. In a dazed coupling of words, he picked up, "Nice… feels like home… can't believe… _James Potter."_

"Right back at you," he replied, steering them away from another pair of dancers. "Though ask me this time tomorrow and I'll deny I ever said it," he grinned easily, glancing down at her. She was on the brink of sleep, it seemed, a lazy smile playing at her lips. Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she tilted her chin upward.

"Brown," she murmured. "Your eyes… You have pretty eyes."

James chuckled again, and felt a ripple of laughter through her as well, as she rested her head against his shoulder again.

Always the bloody hero, he was, and naturally, the hero always got the girl.

Severus Snape glowered from across the room as he watched James Potter and Lily Evans dancing slowly. Not that he was jealous, but still… Evans wasn't a bad person, if he were to ignore the fact that she was a Gryffindor and all Gryffindors were scum. It was just a shame to see her tied up with that air-inflated ego head. He lifted his glass with a sardonic chuckle, saying under his breath, "Cheers."

Leaning against the wall, he spat a curse, wondering why it always had to be James bloody Potter who got everything. It wasn't as if he didn't already have enough- Severus's family had been well-acquainted with the Potters before he came to Hogwarts. The Potters were generally wealthy, famous on a less grand scale, and had a distinct importance in the air of self confidence they all seemed to possess. Why shouldn't it have followed with Potter Junior to school?

Turning away from James, Severus turned his attention to Lily. James Potter was one thing, but Evans… She was just too bloody _pure_. Sweet and naive, with very little knowledge of the world beyond the sheltered walls of Hogwarts. Perhaps that was why most of the Slytherins despised her… She was the perfect little Gryffindor. Potter had, at least, experience in the real world, he knew. There was something behind his eyes, Severus had noticed, that hadn't been there before their sixth year. Over that summer, something had changed, and he was no longer a little kid anymore. Evans, however, still was, with everyone protecting her.

Lily Evans, Severus scoffed at the thought. Everyone was a bit in love with her… Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, Potter… even himself. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something else about her… something magnetic that drew people towards her. Black and Lupin probably loved her like a sister, and held her as a model above all the girls they had dated… senseless idiots. Pettigrew loved her in a different sense, admiring her as something unattainable and unreachable, admitting that Black, Lupin, and Potter would always get the first pick in life, while he stepped faithfully aside. Yet she had noticed him, and had bestowed a smile upon a lonely little kid, and he had watched her out of the corner of his eye ever since. 

And Potter… even if the pigheaded git never realized it, he was in love with Lily Evans in every sense of the word. He'd probably fallen in love with her sometime in their first year, when she was still a scrawny, unnoticeable little girl. Hell, even he wouldn't have noticed her if it hadn't been for the fact that James Potter and his friends had decided to pick on her, no doubt following Potter's lead. He could have chosen to just ignore her, but somehow, Potter had noticed her when she was invisible. It was hardly a wonder once Lily had shown up one September first on their fifth year looking stunning that James had noticed. Yet the fool had managed to distance himself further from her good graces, making himself look bad in the mean time. That was the first time Severus had ever held a shred of respect for the girl. Now, two years later, though, it was only a matter of time before the hero played his part and won the girl. That was the inevitable end, after all.

Himself… he supposed he loved her too. In a different way, probably just to annoy the hell out of James Potter. Yet every time he saw her, he was reminded of the better person he could be. She had that effect on people- making them believe they could be- making them want to be- a better person. 

That was why, of course, it would be best to stay away from her.

"Where's Bella… and Leslie?"

James shrugged, glancing over the crowd searching for the familiar mop of hair that was Leslie. "I can't seem to find them. Maybe we should go to Madame Pomfrey ourselves."

He was mildly surprised to find her wrap a hand on his wrist and mumble, "No, please don't… cold up there… not very…"

He sighed, steering them closer to the edge of the floor. She had been mumbling half sentences for the past twenty minutes, shifting between random comments about his eyes or something about "home" and being "warm" and then just saying nothing at all. Half the time, he believed her to be asleep, yet whenever he made a remark to himself, she had replied, albeit sleepily, but not without her usual dry humor. Still, he realized that Tessa and her usual band of gossips were beginning to congregate and do what they did best… gossip. With occasional bursts of giggles, they would glance over his way when they believed he wasn't looking, then they would giggle more.

"Come on, let's get you up to Madame Pomfrey," he murmured, ignoring her protests as she leaned sleepily towards him. Placing a hand on her shoulder to guide her, he tried to block out the whispers as he pushed open the doors for her. "Think you can make it up the stairs?"

Popping one eye open to look at him, she sighed, getting up. Staring up at the long, twisting, stairwell, she winced, and started up the first step with seemingly great effort. "Didn't think you could," he chuckled, lifting one of her arms around his shoulder as he helped her up. "And you said you didn't need a keeper."

"Still don't… But I… need a friend," she opened her eyes again, turning to meet his gaze. "You… seem nice… when… you're not… being a stupid… prick. Smell like home… and mint… My mother always liked mint. Pine smell, there, too… why?"

James laughed, guiding her up the stairs. "You're very observant, even in an inebriated state," he said, as they passed a portrait of a nosy witch regarding them with keen eyes. "Didn't know I smelled of pine. Must be from being in the Forbidden Forest so many times… Probably shouldn't tell you, though. Once you come to, you'd probably end up reporting me to the Ministry for illegal magical practices."

"Don't… trust me, do you?"

They had reached the top stair at last, and he ignored the question as he greeted a sleepy Bella and Leslie hovering over the patients. There were four beds where the four second year girls were bedding, most of them sleeping soundly, though a few kept mumbling things about beauty charms in their sleep. Bella greeted him, whispering quietly, "Sorry, Leslie came up to check up on me, I know. Madame Pomfrey needed help, though, since Lily wasn't the only one who overdosed on the Butterbeer. Apparently those cupids Gilderoy Lockhart hired for us were trolls, and they were having a bit of a lark watching the students get drunk. I volunteered to help take over some of the other patients. But Madame Pomfrey's in the other wing, behind the curtain, if you're looking for her."

"Thanks," James nodded curtly, taking Lily by the arm and guiding her with him. She sighed sleepily, leaning towards him again. Glancing down at her, he murmured, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up… Madame Pomfrey will know what to do."

"Indeed," a brisk voice said behind him. She shook her head, before saying in a clipped tone, "Ridiculous, these balls, I always end up with at least thirty of the students drunk because some undisciplined little _child_ decides it'd be funny to tamper with the drinks… Never mind, never mind. Well, Mr. Potter, help Miss Evans to a cot over there, behind the curtain. There'll bottle with a potion in it on the table next to the cot; make sure she drinks all of it. She needs sleep, so don't disturb her. I'm much too busy to help you, but I trust you won't muck things up as badly as you did the last time when Remus Lupin was staying here last year."

James was mildly surprised, given the fact she still remembered the incident with the dungbombs they'd sent Remus during his stay in the Infirmary. "You're trusting me this time?"

Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue, evidently displeased with the fact he was keeping her away from her other patients. "Any reason I shouldn't?" she asked sharply. "I'm quite busy here, Mr. Potter, and if you can't follow simple instructions, by all means, please leave, but if you care about the welfare of Miss Evans at all, you will do as I say and stop raising so many questions." Shaking her head, she turned, attending to a boy whose tongue had been severely burned by an acid pop.

James sighed, guiding Lily towards the cluster of empty cots. She seemed rather reluctant to let go of him, he'd noticed, though it was probably just the haze of her thoughts. Giving her the potion, he slid her shoes and socks off as she coughed down the potion. Pulling a face, she muttered, "Nasty stuff, that."

Easing her back onto the pillows, he gave her the rest of the bottle. "Drink up, you'll feel better in the end," he murmured, as she finished the potion with a look of distaste. "Now, get some sleep, Madame Pomfrey will have my head if I disturb one of her patients."

Lily sighed softly, her eyes closing. "Do you really even care if I get a concussion and never wake up?"

"Sure," James said lightly, reaching out a hand to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face, his fingers lingering slightly as they trailed over the side of her face. At least she was speaking in full sentences… Though he wasn't quite sure _why he cared if she never woke up, considering their history. Smiling slightly, he joked, "Who'd do all the paperwork behind the job if you were gone? We'd end up with Tessa Burbank as Head Girl, and… well, you know what she's like."_

She laughed slightly, sighing as he stood to get up. A large emptiness replaced where he had been sitting on the edge of her bed, and she shivered slightly with the cold. She reached up and caught his wrist. Frowning, he leaned forward to hear her whisper, "Stay with me. I don't want to be alone."

Smiling slightly, he conjured up a chair, her fingers still wrapped around his wrist. "If you say so," he murmured, his other hand reaching up to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen out of place. "Though when you wake tomorrow, you probably won't remember… I suppose that's a benefit, though."

She didn't reply, closing her eyes with a soft sigh. He supposed she was asleep, but then, her grip on his wrist seemed to suggest otherwise. Letting out a breath, he leaned backwards in his chair, hoping he wouldn't fall victim to the waves of lethargy already washing over him. After all, if he fell asleep, there would certainly be a lot of explaining to do the next day, to both Madame Pomfrey and to Lily, still asleep on her bed.

His eyelids growing heavier, he said softly, "Goodnight, Lily Evans."

And then he drifted off to sleep himself.

**(A/N): Well, that's it…. For this chapter, anyway. Terribly sorry it took so long, and I can only hope you will all still stick around to read the rest of this. My late Christmas gift to the world of ff.net, I suppose. Oh, and a Happy Belated Birthday to Sierra Sitruc, too… fantastic writer, go check out her stories if you haven't already. I realize it wasn't quite my usual, and it was filled with some rather unnecessary fluff, but I was in a fluffy mood, what with it being Christmas and all, you know?**

**To Come: Aren't you all happy there's a To Come segment? That should assure any of you lot with doubts about my continuing this fic. Next chapter, Lily wakes up, Madame Pomfrey does some yelling, Gilderoy Lockhart pays a visit (he seems almost as popular as Sirius in this fic), and a bit of sentimental reasoning behind acts are revealed.**

Til' next time (which hopefully shouldn't be too long from now)! Don't forget to r/r, all of you who have given me encouragement on this fic for the past year and a half since it started shouldn't stop now! I really appreciate you feedback; whether praise, constructive criticism, witty little anecdotes related to the story, or character analysis, I always appreciate it!

Happy Holidays and a Joyous New Year to Everyone!

Once again, don't forget to r/r!


	25. Something and Something Better

Chapter 25

This is my personal idea of what Lily looks like, done by a fanartist whose name I can't exactly recall at the moment… I'm pretty sure she intended it to be Ginny, but in my eyes, it's the absolute, perfect, Lily, minus the green eyes… I know, the green eyes are the most vivid trait, but all the same; the rest of the physical traits, plus her expression, basically make up what I imagine Lily to look like, in a particularly pensive moment…

**Lily:**

(A/N): Yeah, about me not updating in a grand total of… over a year, minus all the mini chapter holders… Um… sorry? Yes, I know, I suck at life. But things have been hectic, and… well, you guys probably don't really care.

**Regarding the relationship of Sirius, Evelyn, Remus, and Bella: **I've been receiving a couple of e-mails and reviews that tell me a good lot of you believe this is a Sirius/OC, Remus/OC fic as well as Lily/James… Um… no. Sorry to disappoint all you Evelyn and Bella fans, but under _no_ circumstances will they be ending up with either Sirius _or_ Remus. Really… I'd like to think that dear Padfoot and Moony have better judgment than that! Besides that point, Evelyn and Bella are just plot devices, I suppose you could call them. Not to mention the fact that I don't think it's really that common for one to meet the love of their life in high school… Lily and James had a pretty rare and special case. I don't really like those fanfics out there with 'perfect pairings' among Lily, her school friends, and the rest of the Marauder bunch… Like I said, it's just not that plausible. Sorry, it's a pet peeve of mine.

Of course, there are the 'perfect pairings' among the dream team, I suppose… Hermione/Ron, Harry/Ginny, possibly Luna/Neville. Once again, it's not entirely believable that every one of your friends would find that one person that completes them at the wee age of seventeen. But then, JK manages to make it work somehow with build up and what not. I don't think there's been any implications of either Remus or Sirius harboring any non-platonic feelings towards the shallow, material-minded Evelyn and Bella, beyond maybe a casual flirtation. I know… why would _Lily_ befriend such shallow people? You'll find out.

Just had to clear that up!

Disclaimer: No, I don't own a single thing, not the cars, not the money, not the books, not the characters, not even the words! Erm… not that I'm bitter, or anything.

--

--

"Well, well, well, now this is an interesting situation, suffice it to say," a voice followed a rustle of curtains. Madame Pomfrey glared severely at the two seventh years with an expression of utmost disapproval. Punctuating her words with clucks of her tongue, she demanded, "An explanation would be nice. Potter, Evans, which of you would be the better volunteer?"

James chuckled slightly, rubbing a crick in his neck. "I… fell asleep?" he offered weakly.

Madame Pomfrey turned her gaze to her patient, whose hand was still hovering over a pawn on the chessboard, her eyes bearing an expression of surprise. "Oh!" She cleared the board, as if just processing the Head Nurse's demand. "Terribly sorry, ma'am… I… This looks bad, doesn't it?"

"Well, I never! It is hardly necessary for me to point out the impropriety of the situation to the both of you, I should hope. Nor should it be necessary for me to tell you that I will most certainly be reporting this to the Headmaster," she clucked her tongue. "Goodness, the Head Boy and Head Girl. You should be setting an _example_ for your peers. Is that so difficult to attempt without… without jumping into each other's knickers?" Her cheeks flushed at this accusation, though it didn't soften the severity of her gaze.

"Without jumping- I assure you, Madam Pomfrey, nobody was doing any… jumping of _any_ sort, especially not down anyone's knickers," James said, suppressing a laugh. "I fell asleep after attending to my Head Student counterpart… in a chair, which was most uncomfortable, but a good three feet away, nonetheless. At any rate, we didn't… we didn't…" He seemed rather unable to say what they didn't do, whether for fear of enraging the Head Nurse or for fear of bursting into laughter.

Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue again, shaking her head from surrender, and, perhaps, suppressed rage.

Sighing, she said, "Miss Evans, please remain in bed until further notice; the after-effects of that butterbeer are still likely to surface, as I have told the others suffering from the same illness from the butterbeer. You are in good company in that case, and we can't seem to find the little berks responsible for it…" she gave a little sigh here, as though resignedly accepting that 'little berks' tampering with butterbeer was inevitable. "Though Mr. Potter may stay if he wishes. However, should he disturb the other patients, I fully intend to inform the Headmaster of this situation at once."

Lily nodded, ducking her head. As the nurse moved to leave, still clucking her tongue, she called out, "Madame Pomfrey? Is there any way we could, erm, forget about this… rather embarrassing situation? We weren't doing anything wrong, really, he just fell asleep."

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue again, and, unansweringly, left the room.

The two let out a simultaneous breath of relief and a ripple of laughter. "Well, that certainly was interesting," James chuckled, resetting the board of chess pieces. "Though she didn't say she _wouldn't_ tell, she didn't say she would, either. Besides, she seems the good sort; I reckon your reputation is safe."

Lily tilted her head slightly. "I do wonder; would the 'little berks responsible' for the butterbeer incident by any chance be a group of troublemakers that happen to go by the name of the Marauders?"

"Now whatever would give you that idea?" James said with exaggerated sincerity. "We pride ourselves on originality, and that old trick has been done countless times before… Though there are such things as classics, I warrant. Still, it was a group of harp-playing trolls perpetrating the rules this time, not myself or the rest of the group. I'm offended you think we'd be so… unoriginal."

Lily laughed, moving a pawn. "It was kind of you to help me, at any rate, so I suppose I should thank you for that."

"You suppose?" James scratched his chin, observing the board. "Funny, sounds like you'd rather not."

"You think so?"

"On second thought, _I'd_ rather not," he answered with a chuckle, moving his knight.

He was about to elaborate when the curtain brushed open to reveal Sirius Black grinning roguishly, leaning against the metal staff supporting the curtains. Before James could greet his friend, Sirius spoke, with a well-practiced accusing voice laced with sarcasm and amusement.

"Well, well, well, Prongsy-boy, here I was, worried you'd gotten yourself into trouble, when you've been sitting pretty with our favorite Head Girl doing who-knows-what in the past eight hours," he grinned, walking towards the couple playing chess. "What_ever_ kept you, James, why, you didn't even come to bed… When Remus, Peter, and I went to bed, you weren't there, so we assumed you'd decided to stay out a bit past curfew, yet when we awoke, why, lo, your berth was empty still… A glance at the Marauder's Map then revealed a most shocking revelation, and at once I hastened away to see if our Map had been tricked at last. It seems our Map is still trusty as ever."

Lily's cheeks colored slightly, whereas James grinned, replying, "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, the original Purveyors of Aid to Magical Mischief-Makers, wrong? Never," he swore, his hands on his heart. Dropping his pompous air, he said lazily, "I fell asleep while assisting our not-so-favorite Head Girl over here, given the fact that she had drunk unhealthy quantities of butterbeer and was therefore alarmingly intoxicated and thoroughly out of it."

Sirius chuckled. "Bet Poppy loved that."

"She has kindly agreed not to press charges," James answered, grinning. "But to more pressing matters… You should know what comes next, Padfoot."

Sirius grinned, standing to his full height. "Why, of course, Prongs. We must avenge this act of evil! As we speak, troops are assembling to decide what ill fate awaits our Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart." With a wicked grin, he mused, "Toffee in his hair? Nah, too juvenile. Throw his wardrobe into the girls' dorm? An interesting idea, come to think of it…"

"Please, no, we'd rather not see that," Lily said with a look of disgust, rolling her eyes. "And I do hope you realize you're discussing all of this in the presence of the Head Girl? It would be my duty to report you if such incidents came about, however much I think he would deserve it."

Sirius shook his head. "Lily… Lils… _Lilikins_, when have I ever asked even the teensiest of favors from you?" He hushed her with a solemn finger, saying delicately, "I know, I know, your overwhelming gratitude at my selfless nature is apparent enough without words. Is it so much to ask that you turn that pretty little head of yours the other way as I carry out this task in _your_ favor?"

Lily laughed, before imitating his serious manner. "Sirius… Siri… _Sirikins_, while I realize what a burdensome task this is, that you're doing for _me_, nonetheless, I'm afraid, for Mr. Lockhart's sake, I must put a stop to all motions for such a- how did you put it?- avenging such an act of evil. Besides, it was his cupid troll-things to blame for it, not him. Not directly, anyway… I mean, he did hire them, after all."

"You see? He intentionally hired them, trolls, I remind you! Nasty little blighters known for their cunning and unoriginal pranks!" Sirius advocated his prank-in-the-works. "Surely you can't be _defending_ such an intolerable little cretin?"

"Seems only yesterday I was calling _you_ an intolerable little cretin," she replied dryly before moving her queen across the board. "Checkmate, Potter. I'm surprised- you're usually more attentive before falling into a trap like that one."

"You always catch me by surprise," he answered with a laugh, glancing up to meet her eyes.

--

It was to the great surprise of the student body when, later that morning at breakfast in the Great Hall, Gilderoy Lockhart ran in screaming in hysteria about his teeth and hair. It soon became quite obvious to any passerby that his hair had been modeled into a stiff, turtle-shell-like helmet, hard enough to make a metallic-like sound when rapped upon.

His teeth, however, were less obvious, as he was unwilling to part his mouth and display his winning smile he normally showcased regularly. Once a teacher forced him to speak, though, it became evident that he was suffering from a serious dental emergency of some sort, his smile suddenly bucktoothed and blackened to a disgusting degree. Someone was kind enough to bestow him with the catchy alias of "Lockjaw, the Bucktoothed Wonder"… something Gilderoy himself credited, no doubt, to the 'creativity' of the Marauders.

Thus, to no one's surprise (no one present, at any rate), when Lily slid into her seat at breakfast, all four Marauders refused to meet her accusing glare.

"I had nothing to do with it," James said before she opened her mouth, while he spooned vast quantities of porridge down his throat. "So stop glaring at me like that. It's… creepy."

Lily glared at him, sitting next to Evelyn across from him for breakfast. "I never said you did. You, on the other hand…" she turned her accusing gaze to Sirius's direction.

"_Moi_? You must be kidding, Miss Evans; surely _I_ would never cause such catastrophic and disruptive events in the life of Mr. Lockhart," Sirius said with conviction. "We must attribute these events to mere tragic happenstance, for surely you cannot mean to say that _I_ would do such a thing. I've never slighted the poor lad in my life!"

"Sure, and pigs will fly and fish breathe air," Lily muttered under her breath, before taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. "You're cute, Sirius, but not that cute. Don't presume to hold yourself as a person with… morals."

"Never," Sirius promised with a cheeky grin, before attacking his plate of food that frightened some poor passing first years. Through a disgusting amount of food stored in his mouth, chewing rapidly, he said, "Morals… as well as table manners, are things I have learned to do without. Ah, well… It's a tragedy, I know, but I'm sure any future wife of mine will learn to deal with such… habits."

Lily raised a brow. "Habit? Hardly _habitual_ behavior; you exhibit it at all major meals and every time food is served, whether to you or to the person next to you. It's a way of life with you," she said matter-of-factly. "A rather disgusting one, come to think of it."

"Cut him some slack, Evans, he's a teenager, and food and drink are vital essentials to every growing boy's diet," James said, leaning across the table as Evelyn watched Sirius with an expression of disgust. "And, as I've told you before, Sirius takes anything at the top of the food pyramid _very_ seriously."

Lily laughed, stabbing her fork in her salad with slightly more force than necessary. "How could I forget," she murmured, "When he practically inhaled all the cookies I made… it was rather frightening, actually."

Sirius shrugged, replying, "Ice cream: dairy products; hotdogs: meat products; hotdog buns: bread products; raisin cookies: fruits and the top of the food pyramid at last. Throw in a mixture of rakishly handsome looks and an ego that could span the Atlantic and you've got a day in the life of me, Sirius Black, perfectly healthy and, not to mention, _very_ single at the moment."

"Forget it, Sirius," Evelyn groaned through a mouth full of deviled eggs. "No one at this table is the slightest bit interested in your sad and pathetic attempts to breed progeny."

Lily took a sip of pumpkin juice, shrugging as she replied with a straight face, "I'm interested. Why, Sirius, what are you doing this Saturday? We could spend the entire day at Hogsmeade sipping coffees at the new teashop and then cuddle and play footsy under the table in front of all our friends until they choke and gag while clawing out their eyes. I think it'd be a jolly good time, don't you?"

"I don't know, about that, Miss Evans," Sirius replied, "but maybe our dear friend Prongsy would like to have a go at that."

James choked on his drink.

--

"Argh! I can't believe you people!" Leslie threw her hands in the air in disbelief as they made their way past a throng of students to Transfiguration. At the blank expressions she was greeted with, she elaborated, "Today is my last day here! And after you lot disappeared last night-"at this point, she narrowed her eyes at Lily, "that only leaves today for goodbyes."

Sirius quirked a brow, casually draping an arm around Leslie as a passing fifth year looked on jealously. "Goodbyes, eh? Prongsy-boy, did you hear anything about goodbyes of any sort today?"

"Why, no, Padfoot, old boy, I didn't," James replied in mock sincerity. Grinning easily at Leslie, he slid smoothly into his regular accent, as he explained, "The Marauders never say goodbye. All for one, and one for all. United we stand, divided we fall. The very word 'goodbye' has been cut from our dictionaries, for it implies the finalities of parting." Shuddering delicately, as if the thought of parting was terribly horrifying, he quoted solemnly, a hand over his heart, "'Parting is such sweet sorrow.'"

Draping his arm over Leslie's other shoulder, James joined Sirius in escorting Leslie to her next class. Sirius said in the air of a well-practiced speech, "We're the three musketeers!"

"And, you know, that, erm, fourth guy," James added.

"The three little pigs!" a third voice chorused. Leslie swiveled around in time to see Remus cheerfully inclining his head, touching his forehead as though tipping off a hat. Thoughtfully, he mused, "Though I suppose I'd be the big bad wolf, as well."

Nudging Peter, the fourth boy said dully, "The three blind mice. I get it, alright? Ha, ha; very cute; nice little pun… Why is it that you lot are always taking the good ones?"

"Ah, quit being a damper, Wormtail," Sirius said lazily, as Lily rolled her eyes at Leslie. Turning his attention back to the girl at his side, he said, "You know, if you're going to spend the entire day wallowing, that won't do much for memories. I mean, I'd much rather be living life and _making_ memories now rather than spending the last hours just thinking about goodbyes. In the end, you'll have more to remember. Besides, you don't leave for another ten hours, so what's the rush, dahling?" He fluttered his eyes in a rather pathetic imitation of muggle movie characters, swooning every few feet to scare away fifth years.

Lily sighed, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling dramatically, before she shoved the two boys out of the way, taking Leslie by the hand. "Sorry, sweetie, but I don't think anyone deserves that kind of torture. You're too young to die of boredom, after all."

Leslie laughed, tossing a smile over her shoulder towards James and Sirius, the latter of whom pretended to swoon again. Turning back to Lily, she wrinkled her nose and said, "Lily, I really don't see why you despise them so, I mean, they're perfectly nice people, though they do have certain… quirky traits."

Lily laughed, taking the shorter girl by her elbow as they pushed past a crowd. "Believe me; you've only been around them for a few months. Stick around here for seven years and you'll see where I'm coming from," she said. Glancing back to see James helping Sirius up off the floor a fifth time, she turned to continue, "I mean, sure, they do have their moments; Sirius can make me laugh over the most random topics and if you stick around long enough, James seems to be able to make anything happen. But at the end of the day, their company is only bearable for so long."

"And Remus and Peter?" Leslie probed, upon their entrance into the Transfiguration classroom. "What's wrong with them?"

"Other than the fact that they chose the companionship of Potter and Black of their own free will?" Lily replied smoothly, sliding into her usual seat. "Not much, though once you're around the two of them for a while, both give off an air of distinct dottiness, if you ask me." She gave a long-suffering sigh. "But other than that, you're right, they are perfectly nice people."

Leslie rolled her eyes, sighing. "Thank you, oh Princess High in the Land of Maintenance," she responded, opening her textbooks. "I assume you're coming to the surprise party we're having for me in the common room, then? I mean, if I find out you blew me off to get tipsy off butterbeer or to sneak off and study, I will be severely offended."

"And how, exactly, is it a surprise party without the element of surprise?" Lily laughed. "I'll try."

Sirius leaned forward, draping an arm around both girls. "That means she'll run screaming while we get James to try and coerce her into having a life for once."

James rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, mumbling something about, 'that fifth year incident'.

--

Several hours and three classes later, Lily gathered up her notes and poked Leslie in the ribs. "Hey, sleeping beauty, History of Magic is over, we can go now."

Leslie snorted slightly, but otherwise undeterred, turned over and fell back to sleep. Sighing, Lily pinched her arm, receiving no reaction. Looking up, James met her eyes and murmured, "Let her sleep. It'll give us more time to plan the party, you know. Come on, you don't want to miss this one, being only half conscious for the majority of the last one."

Lily gave him an uncertain smile, gathering her books into her bag, tilting her head. He was different, she realized, than the self-absorbed prick he had been just a few months ago. There was something different behind the probing hazel eyes, the familiar curve of his smile… Something had changed. As she scanned his face, lingering at his eyes, something stirred in the back of her memory.

_The sunlight had been bright, a shocking change from the pink (and rather sinister, she thought) shades of the night before, followed by the complete darkness after. The warmth of the light reached her, though, and as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light filtering through the green cloth of the curtains, she realized she was in the infirmary. A glance at the clock at her bedside told her two things… It was __seven thirty__ in the morning, and she had an uncomfortable crick in her neck. Lifting her head slightly, she shook the night's grogginess out of her mind, trying to recall the last thing in her memory. It was an unorganized jumble, with pink, fluttering trolls, and someone very warm, with deep brown eyes… It had felt… like home._

_This thought brought her to the sudden awareness of a weight on her left hand, barely hanging off the edge of the infirmary cot. Glancing at her hand, she blinked in surprise to find it loosely clasped by the hand of James Potter, who was still asleep in a chair next to her. Jerking her hand away, she stretched her memory further for recollection of the events of the previous night, but aside from a feeling of an oncoming headache, she received nothing. Poking hesitantly at his arm, Lily watched as James shook his head, mumbling something slightly indistinct, though she caught the phrase, 'Not time for school yet, mum.'_

_Pushing herself up on the cot, she drew the covers of the thin, worn blanket closer, as James's eyes blinked open, squinting at the sunlight. "Hey," he said softly. Blinking against the light, he asked in a scratchy-throated voice, "I'm sorry. Did I fall asleep?"_

_Resisting the urge to scream bloody murder, she managed to only laugh at his innocent expression. "Obviously. I tried to wake you, but you told me it wasn't time for school yet. And you called me mum."_

_"I did not," he grumbled, muttering a refreshing charm, yawning widely. "And even if I did, you've got no proof, and no witnesses."_

_"Ha! What if I were to call Madame Pomfrey over right this second?" she argued, watching him reach back to attempt to flatten his hair in vain. He glared at her as a giggle escaped her lips._

_"You try looking like a beauty queen after sleeping in a chair all night," he answered, still blinking the sleep away from his eyes. "And if you were to call Poppy over, I'm sure she'd assume the worst and accuse me of various acts of indecencies that I don't even _want_ to think about. So to save your virtue and my pride, I'd suggest you rethink that move."_

_Lily shrugged, giving him a half smile, before sinking back beneath her blanket. The return to their usual banter had been comforting for a while, considering she had no idea what had happened the night before, and as there hadn't been much of it in the recent months. Squirming slightly, she admitted she almost missed arguing with him. Their conversations lately seemed to consist of nothing but long silences and awkward words strung together incoherently, as if each was unsure of how to act around the other._

_"Hey," James leaned forward slightly to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "What're you thinking right now?"_

_"What makes you think I'm thinking of anything?"_

_There was a laugh after this statement, followed by a low and gravelly, "You're Lily Evans; therefore, you're always thinking. Now come on, trouble shared is trouble halved. Or at least that's what my nanny used to say. Of course, my troubles at the time usually consisted of Remus being mad at me for throwing the cat off the roof or trivial things like that."_

_"Oh, yes, trivial things like that," Lily replied with a roll of her eyes. Sobering slightly as she turned her head to see him watching her attentively, she sighed slightly. "Potter… James, I know this is going to sound a little strange, but, erm… What happened last night? The last thing I really remember clearly is Tessa What's-her-name saying something… though I can't remember what, really, but I'm sure it couldn't have been a very good thing. After that, there was just… a lot of pink." She paused, then giggled, "Oh, Merlin, that sounds really dumb, doesn't it? I'm sorry, really, but… What happened?"_

_James studied her, tilting her chin with his finger. She shivered involuntarily. "You really are amazing, you know that?" he chuckled slightly. There was something in his eyes- relief, disappointment, a large multitude of things she didn't begin to ponder once he said, "Well, remember how I told you that Lockhart was catering the event? Turns out the Mr. Lockhart was a tad dissatisfied with the number of galleons Dumbledore was willing to shell out for his service, so he sent us a load of trolls dressed as cherubs as a means of getting back. Well, you know how trolls are… unpredictable creatures, and they decided to charm the butterbeer for the fun of it, to watch everyone get drunk off it."_

_"Oh. Right. Well, that explains the memory lapse, I suppose," Lily nodded distractedly. "And you… why were you here, exactly?"_

_"I was assigned the task of bringing you up here, and… I fell asleep," James shrugged lamely, his hand jerking up to scratch his neck, leaping away from her face. After a brief pause while Lily studied her nails and James studied her, he said suddenly, as if a rather desperate attempt to break the silence, "Well, seeing as we're up here, do you care for a game of chess?"_

"Evans?" James tilted his head to match the angle of hers. "Something… wrong?"

"No," she smiled briefly before turning and pushing the door open. "Nothing. Um, hey, I'm going to the library to research a few charms for the banners, but I'll be back in the common room in a few minutes. So, erm… see you at lunch, I s'pose."

"Right," James nodded. "Lunch."

--

_The properties of the color-changing charms often vary with the materials by which the charm will be performed on, as discovered by Fitzgerald in his paper on the Dreyfuss-effect. For example, when acted upon certain types of pine, the colors would take on earth tones, whereas colors changed accordingly to the will of the caster in other types of wood. The same effect has been found in many types of cloths, particularly those spun of more than one material…'_

"Well, that goes under the column of useless parp, then," Lily muttered, snapping the thick book shut. Blowing a fine sheet of dust off another book on the shelf of variety charms, she peeled apart the yellowed pages of the index, her finger trailing down the list.

"Hello, Lily Evans," someone said as she glanced up. What met her was a rather shocking surprise of someone who closely resembled a certain quidditch captain with whom she had been butting heads with lately. In fact, she had almost said his name, but, with a double take, realized it was someone else. As she stared at the tall stranger, she soon realized he was speaking again. "That's quite a pile of books you have there, but seeing as I haven't seen you around the common rooms, it's safe to say you're not a Ravenclaw."

Her gaze shifting downwards, she noted the tie with the Ravenclaw colors and nodded slightly. He took this as an invitation and took a seat across from the table of books she'd been reading, saying, "Pardon me for my rudeness, I've forgotten to introduce myself."

She shrugged, catching his eye before turning back to the ancient pages of the book, replying, "So introduce yourself." Upon closer inspection, she realized, he wasn't quite the replica of James Potter as she had thought. Though they were probably within inches of each other's height, and had the same mess of jet black hair, this one was… tidier, she found the word upon her tongue and felt the urge to fight down a laugh.

"Very well, then. I'm Andrew Harris, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain… I suppose we may have seen each other now and then in passing," he said without further invitation. Leaning forward, he continued, "And I was curious as to whether or not you'd be willing to accompany me to the next Hogsmeade outing… as a date, of sorts."

She stared at him blankly before letting out a short laugh. "Pardon?" she asked, a hint of amusement still in her voice. "I'm sorry, Andrew, I'm sure you're a nice enough person, but I'm a bit busy right now… Organizing a party at zero hour doesn't exactly bring out the best in me, and there are probably plenty of other girls you can go ask that would make far better candidates for a date... After all, you're situation can't be so dire that you're willing to risk asking me, is it?"

Andrew inclined his head. "Very well, how can I convince you, then? I'd genuinely appreciate your company this Saturday at Hogsmeade, and while it may not quite live up to your plans of staying in and studying, I can guarantee a good enough time, and a full refund for your troubles if all doesn't go quite smoothly enough."

Lily tilted her head slightly, smiling. It had been a while since any part of the male population had expressed an interest in her outside the friendship capacity, and she herself had been far too busy living her life to be bothered with such affairs, but it was nice to know someone cared. Of course, she was surprised she had any admirers left, given her past behavior at a time when she hadn't quite gotten over her 'boys are yucky' phase… the last mention of anyone liking her in such a romantic sense had been Gilderoy Lockhart, which had ended rather disastrously, at least by all standards of any sane person.

"I'm sorry, Andrew, I'm not really looking for anything in that… area," she answered apologetically, adding as an afterthought, "At least not now, and not for a while. It's been… hectic, and I'm finally starting spell-tape everything back together… or at least I'm trying to before it all falls to pieces again. There's no place, really, for a social life in all that, you know?"

"Well, there's no way a bloke can quite argue that, is there?" Andrew gave her a half smile in defeat as she started gathering her books. "Still… I'd like the chance to get to know you better, Lily Evans… You're a real mystery to the rest of us, you know. So, the offer still stands. What do you say? I wouldn't take up more than ten minutes' worth of your time, I promise."

Lily finished gathering her books and stuffed her notes quickly in her bag as she replied blithely, "Well, in that case, you must be a terribly boring person, Andrew, if you can't think of more than just a ten minutes' worth of dialogue in a full day at Hogsmeade." She smiled, though, softening her words slightly as she gave him a flippant smile, getting up to leave.

"A half an hour, then," Andrew replied, blocking her way quickly as he stood with a quirk of a brow. "That's all I'll ask for, and you can take it from there."

She took the time to consider it… He seemed genuine, for someone to whom she'd never spoken more than ten words before, but there was that nagging feeling… She figured it would be nice to see someone outside of her small circle of friends, really. Throwing caution to the wind, she answered, "Fine, then… I'll consider it."

With that, she side stepped him and left the library, leaving him to call after her, "Is that some cryptic way of saying yes?"

She laughed again, and waved a hand over her shoulder in response.

--

"And where exactly have you been, Lily Evans?"

Lily slid her bag off her shoulder and onto an empty wooden table in the kitchens while ignoring a glare Peter Pettigrew, who was at least four inches shorter than her and looking not the least bit intimidating wearing a green checkered 'Kiss the Cook' apron (now where in Merlin's name had he gotten that?). Behind him, several house elves sprung to work, busying themselves with clanging pots and pans, though she had the sneaking suspicion Peter himself had been manning the ovens and stoves single-handedly, and, by the looks of the fallen soufflé behind him one house elf was quickly disposing of, rather unsuccessfully.

"I've been researching the coloring and text altering charms for the banners we're hanging for Leslie," she answered simply, plopping down on the table top rather than the wooden bench next to it, raising a bag with rolled up bits of parchment as proof. Glancing around, she risked saying, "And you've been… cooking, I gather?"

Peter snorted in impatience. "Not just cooking, I've been cooking biscuits. I couldn't very well have the house-elves do it; they're very good at their job, I'll warrant, but it's just the lack of _passion_ the have for the art of cooking biscuits. If I'd just let them do it themselves, they would have just… whipped it up like they would any meal, without any passion, any care, any love for it… It's not right, Lily, being a bit of a culinary master yourself, you _must_ understand how delicately this must be handled. And naturally I couldn't trust this with James, Sirius, or Remus… They just couldn't have the care for it. They wouldn't be able to see the importance of a few biscuits and cream puffs… the way it's the pastries that really are the deciding factor of whether a party's a success or a flop."

"It's quite alright, Peter, really… I understand-"

Peter ignored her. Instead, he drew a long suffering breath and continued, "They simply don't understand. I _thought_ I could rely on you to help me with this, but clearly you don't care too much about Leslie's going away otherwise you wouldn't have dawdled with your charms nonsense."

It struck a chord. "Pardon me, Peter? 'Charms nonsense'? I'll have you know, that 'charms nonsense' will very well be part of the central focus in the room once people walk in… The banners are just as important as the pastries, you know, and I've half a mind to walk out of here now and leave you helpless." Lily crossed her arms childishly and had the satisfaction of seeing a shadow of fear pass Peter's eyes.

"You _wouldn't_!" he said in a half whisper. Quickly, he produced a fallen soufflé from behind him, and used it as a peace offering. "Look at this," he said miserably. "Please… don't be cruel. I know you're a kind person at heart, Lily… right?"

Lily rolled her eyes and rolled up her sleeves, setting her wand down and wandering over to one of the kitchen stations at which there was a series of fallen soufflés, each more pathetic looking than the previous one. Several house elves shied away from her as she shook with a sort of silent laughter. Turning to Peter, she said expectantly, "Well, if you expect me to salvage this wreck, I'll need materials, and it seems you've wiped the kitchens clear of their supplies."

Peter seemed relieved to be presented with a problem to which he knew the solution. "I've already sent James to fetch more," he replied, seeming rather pleased with himself, perhaps for having the chance to give orders to one of his best friends who had usually been the one to tell him what to do.

The words, "From where, exactly?" had found themselves to Lily's tongue and she was about to voice her thoughts when the portrait to the kitchens swung open to reveal James Potter himself with a small arsenal of cooking supplies, along with various cleaning products to different spices of every sort thinkable. He tossed her a nod and brushed past, muttering in a low voice, "The biscuit Nazi get to you, as well?"

She shrugged as he set down each kitchen product, listing each off. "There you are, Peter. You've got your ginger, cinnamon, vanilla extract, white sugar, brown sugar, white eggs, brown eggs, baking powder, baking soda, cabbage, lettuce heads, garlic, onion, roasted duck, the-"

"Paprika! Where's the paprika?" Peter demanded as he inspected the materials. "I specifically asked for paprika!"

Lily raised a brow as she listened to this exchange, quickly walking over to the table on which Peter was presently scrutinizing each and every product there, as if the missing paprika would turn up automatically from behind.

"Oh, bollocks," James said, without much conviction. In fact, he looked a bit relieved. "Should I turn back and get it?"

"Bloody right, you should," Peter said angrily, "I can't have my biscuits without it. Really! _How_ you got to be Head Boy when you're this irresponsible, I can't imagine…"

Lily smirked. "Exactly what I've been saying all this time, Peter." James glared over Peter's head. "But still… I don't think you need cold cooked poultry to make biscuits." Picking up another item, she asked incredulously, "You had him get a goose? For what, goose biscuits? In fact, you don't need… any of these."

She picked up a bottle of ketchup, a bunch of carrots, and a bottle of Firewhiskey with a questioning look.

"Hey, hey, hey, hang on there, Evans," James grabbed the Firewhiskey from her in one swift movement. "That's mine."

Lily whirled around. "And what do you suppose the headmaster would say to the Head Boy carrying on about, drinking firewhiskey… something _illegal_, may I remind you, at our age-"

"That's never stopped me before," James replied with a smirk, and behind her, Peter gave a slight squeak and glanced worriedly at the pair before scurrying off to yell at a house elf for clearing off a kitchen counter with even more food products. James set the bottle down. "In fact, there's many things I could show you…"

He took a step closer, and she, likewise, took a step back. His voice lowering to a slight husky, rumble, he murmured, "I could show you things that would most certainly blow your mind… things that would shock you beyond comprehension and stun that pretty little head of yours…"

He took a swig of the Firewhiskey and said lazily, "But then, there's that pesky legality issue, so… There you go…"

Lily sidestepped him easily and let out a huff, running off to help Peter with his biscuits.

--

Some two hundred biscuits, three hundred cookies, and twelve more fallen soufflés later, the cooking was finally finished, and brought slowly up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower.

"I just don't see why I'm the one who has to carry the most trays of biscuits and cookies," James complained under his breath as he climbed another flight of stairs.

Lily rolled her eyes, holding four trays herself. "Because you have the longest legs, Potter."

James shrugged, and one of the seven trays laden in his arms teetered dangerously before he caught it, thanking the high heavens for his finely honed quidditch reflexes. "I'm just saying… Seeing as we're the Head Boy and Girl, shouldn't that give us some sort of... advantage over the other students on the 'no magic between classes' rule? I mean, besides, this is for a good cause, really."

"Not really, no, but seeing as there isn't likely to be a professor happening upon us anytime soon..." Lily glanced around before she flicked her wrist and levitated the trays up the tower. "Which leaves us," she gestured up the winding staircase, "with all these stairs to climb."

A panting Peter appeared around the bend behind them, as he muttered, "Really, you could have taken into account my asthma, you know. Why couldn't we go, oh, say, the _short_ way?"

James replied lazily, "Because the short way would require use of the front way to the Gryffindor Tower, which would mean risking Leslie seeing all this, and therefore ruining the element of surprise, which leaves us with nothing to surprise her with." He seemed to have voluntarily forgotten Leslie already knew about the party. He added, "And quit whimpering, you're only carrying one thing, Peter."

Indeed, Peter was holding the one soufflé that had _not_ fallen like it was the Holy Grail, or something of equal importance… He hadn't trusted Lily's magic enough to let it go along with the other trays, though he suspected walking it up the tower himself wasn't such a grand idea either, given the fact he had already fallen through the trick steps twice.

"But it must be treated with _care_," Peter answered, his tone whining. "I mean, I didn't spend a whole two hours learning how to remake this from scratch just to have it fall through the cracks of smash into a wall, you know. You see, _this_ is why I didn't trust you with those biscuits before… your lack of _caring_. People who don't care about anything never understand people who do."

James shrugged. "Yeah, but we don't _care_," he answered with a smirk. Peter huffed while Lily listened to this brief interlude, then groaned and closed her eyes, looking as though she were concentrating very hard on trying not to react. Following this, there was a great clattering sound of metal coming from a ways up the winding tower, one which sounded ominously like two trays of muffins colliding and fighting a battle against gravity… one which gravity came out the winner, with an even louder clatter of two trays crashing from a height of six feet to the stony ground. All three winced.

"Great, this is just terrific," she muttered, a slight note of hysteria in her voice. "Exactly how I was intending to spend my afternoon; wasting two hours on making biscuits and cookies in excess only to have a portion of them left behind to be food for the rats and owls of the school and then another forty-five minutes walking up the back staircase of the Gryffindor Tower… with the two greatest gits on the planet. That's just fan-bloody-tastic," Lily said, glaring at a passing suit of armor contemptuously, as though it was to blame for her situation.

It replied with a quick brandishing of its glinting sword.

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "One day, I'll just give up all together, collapsing from exhaustion of climbing up these endless stairs, and leave my poor mortal body to the mercy of these suits of armor, who will surely sever my legs from my body, and I'll never make it to a class ever again."

James chuckled lightly. "Well, in that case… Since as I rather enjoy seeing you in a whole…" In a swift movement, he had swept her off her feet and proceeded to carry her up the winding flights of stairs, despite her loud shrieks and demands to put her down. With a tip of an invisible hat, he said, grinning down at her, "Chivalry isn't quite dead yet, madam."

"Bite me, Potter," she replied, expressing her gratitude, though admitting defeat and gave up trying to wrestle her way out. Despite being in better physical shape than most of the girls in her year, she couldn't quite overwhelm James, given he had the advantage of weekly quidditch practice sessions over her.

James gave her a cheeky grin and answered, "Do you really want me to?"

"Do you really have to ask?" she answered, rolling her eyes. Sighing, she decided to at least make the most of the situation and rested her head against his shoulder. He stiffened for a fraction of a second then relaxed, during which she took the time to murmur, "This feels familiar."

"Well, it would," he answered, giving her a slight smile. "You weren't in much of a state to walk last night, you know."

"I blame Lockhart," she answered, as he let out a chuckle, one which felt like a low rumble against her. Finding the need to busy her hands, Lily drew a finger towards his neck, tracing the column of his Adam's apple and murmured, "You have freckles on your neck in February, James Potter. What kind of abnormal little twit are you?"

"A drop dead gorgeous one, Evans, and don't you forget it," he said in a deadpan.

She stared at him for a few seconds before laughing. "Good one, Potter."

James looked as though extremely affronted by her reaction. "What, are you denying the oozing charm of my charismatic persona? The sinfully good-looking-ness of my body?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she answered, between her laughs. "Black is better looking than you, Potter. You're just… convenient to keep around."

"I've half a mind to drop you now, as it is, Lily Evans," he replied lightly, hopping up three more steps over a trick step, while an armored suit below rattled menacingly. She detected a slight frost to his voice that hadn't been there before and he stiffened slightly against her. She glanced up and there was a passing flicker of emotion that on any other person she would have believed was hurt, but it was gone before she could think further on it. James tossed her an easy grin, and said, "Give me another reason to, and I promise you I will."

"Nah, this is too comfortable," she murmured, letting out a slight sigh as her hand slid across his sweater and to his neck again.

James gave her another mock offended look. "Says the girl who practically just told me she fancies for my best friend."

"There, there," she patted his shoulder pacifying, as though to an eight year old who didn't understand why he hadn't won first place in the science fair. He sniffed haughtily and seemed even more offended. "You're not… completely hideous looking... compared to Severus Snape, anyway. And at least you don't have that awkward, _really_ out-of-proportioned body you did in fourth year, anymore." She smothered a laugh into his sweater.

"Oh, that's much better," he said, miffed. "You're saying I'm better looking than Snape. Let me tell you something, the Giant Squid is better looking than him on its off day, Evans. Really, when you stop denying my charms…" He let the sentence trail off with a grin.

Lily picked her head up from its comfortable resting spot on his shoulder as a thought occurred to her. "Are you _flirting_ with me, Potter?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Evans. You're just… convenient," he answered, using her own words. With an incline of his head and a cheeky grin, he murmured in a husky rumble next to her ear, "Though I suppose there are more ways than one that can be interpreted."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Just walk up the damn stairs, Potter."

"As you wish," James replied as he glanced down at her again, an unconscious smile playing at his lips.

--

Peter Pettigrew knew he wasn't the most coordinated person in the world.

And he knew James knew it, as well, as he fell into yet another trick step, cursing his "friend" under his breath. Really… He had been abandoned to by the pair of them to walk the stairs by himself, while he also was forced to endure hearing Lily's fits of laughter and the indistinct murmuring of James's voice that preceded it coming from the stairs above him… Both of which were pretty much telling signs, in his view, at any rate, that James was once again ditching him (him being Peter, of course… if he had been Sirius, James might have at least thought twice about pulling the knight in shining armor act back there) for a girl.

"What else could I expect?" he muttered under his breath as he heard yet another shriek of laughter come from Lily some ways up the stairs.

He wasn't blind to the change in his friend's actions, really. He had noticed, along with Sirius and Remus, the lengths James would go just to get a laugh or a smile out of Lily. And while it wasn't quite the infatuated behavior of their fifth year, in which he recalled James to be quite smitten and completely taken by her, it certainly was… different. What exactly had brought on the change, Peter wasn't quite sure, he left that to Remus and Sirius to figure out themselves. He was just the one that did the noticing, after all. Being practically invisible certainly helped matters, he supposed.

Sure, James was the one with the invisibility cloak, but he, Peter, was the one who saw the most around Hogwarts. He was like a part of the background to mostly everyone, and hence no one noticed him drifting in and out of their conversations, his keen ears picking up what others wouldn't… Of course, also being able to change into a rat to avoid getting caught out of bed by Filch and listening outside the door of the professor's quarters for snippets of conversations always came in handy as well… Either way, Peter Pettigrew knew he was the one in the grouped best equipped with a means of eavesdropping and noticing what others missed.

And this certainly was difficult enough to miss as it was. Oh, the pair had carried on their usual banter, as they always did, but it could almost be considered flirting, given their obviousness about it. But then, theirs was a curious and complex relationship, one no one really knew what to make heads or tails of. Even Peter himself wasn't quite sure… On some days, they acted as though they were closest friends, sometimes even more than what the confines of friendship would allow, then the next day they'd be back to acting as if they were bitter rivals… They really were a confusing and paradoxical pair.

The change hadn't gone unnoticed to anyone, Peter was pretty sure of. But it hadn't been sudden, not really… He remembered at the beginning of the year, even, they had been at their usual cutting, biting remarks, aimed to hurt and humiliate. Then, something had changed… He wasn't quite so sure it had been the sudden slew of deaths the new year had brought, nor what had happened while they had been away from Hogwarts, but… it had happened before that. They had simply stopped the tongue lashing and the verbal abuse, shedding it as though they had just… outgrown it. But lately…

Lately it had been different. Something about them was really, truly different. Peter prided himself in knowing, at least, his friends regarded him as an equal, someone worthy of their respect and friendship. But this year, Lily had inadvertently managed to find her way into a place in their exclusive group, and while they weren't exactly inviting her to be a marauder and teaching her the secret handshake, she certainly was a token member of the group. Through James, Peter supposed… That was how she had gotten in. It was after when he had come home from his parents' house to tell them his mum had died… He had seemed shut off, cold, bitter, and angry… but not to her. Instead, she was the one who had cut through the layers, while they, James's _actual_ friends, hadn't known what to do.

Bringing his memory back to when James had just told them of his mum's death, he remembered the shell of a person his friend had become in the following days. He hadn't wanted to talk to them, but seemed angry at them when they didn't try to talk to him… Or something like that. It had been confusing. He had wanted to be alone, yet he grew angry with them when the left him by himself. After a bit, Lily had been the one to be there for him in the wake of his mother's death, being one to sympathize and empathize and whatnot, Peter supposed. But then, girls were generally good at that sort of thing.

And after that… he had sought out her company on his own, Peter had noticed, and seemed to be trying to return the favor to her, though she seemed to have gotten over the initial pain by then. Yet the times he saw her smile the most was in James's company… Peter suspected his friend purposely went out of his way to make her laugh or bring a smile to her face because it was his way of thanking her for being an understanding ear while he had been in trouble.

He wondered what it was that defined their relationship. Another peal of laughter came from above that he identified as Lily's, before he found the two trays of fallen biscuits they had heard clatter earlier. Of course they had left it behind for _him_ to clean up, as though he were a house-elf… Really. He wondered if they even realized themselves their relationship was way out of the normal definitions of a simple friendship. It was… something different.

Something Peter himself had yet to find.

--

"Alright, alright, alright! You win," Lily threw her hands in defeat, more out of getting sick of his persistence on the subject than an actual admittance of defeat. "But I won't say it."

James quirked a brow. "Say it, Evans, or I reveal that fascinating tidbit of information you gave me back there regarding a spell you cast on your sister last summer to the middle of the roomful of seventy-something people awaiting our arrival with the snacks."

Lily pouted and stuck her tongue out juvenilely. Sighing, she deadpanned, "James Potter is a gorgeous and brilliant wizard, with the muscles of a finely toned Quidditch God and oozes with a charming persona which no witch in her right mind can resist. Are you happy?"

"Well, you could have said it with a little more conviction, but I'll let it slide," he answered with a grin.

Lily rolled her eyes as they finally reached the last step to the concealed back door of the Gryffindor Tower, one which resided conveniently behind a bookcase. "You can put me down now, James," she murmured, though not quite ready to give up the rather comfortable position she had adjusted to, nor the rather nice-smelling human pillow she had obtained.

"What, you don't want me to carry you across the threshold?" James asked, jokingly, glancing down curiously as he heard her inhale a deep breath… Tilting his head, he asked slowly, "Evans… are you sniffing me?"

Lily seemed startled out of whatever reverie she was in and replied, "What? No, I wasn't sniffing you… Why on earth would I be sniffing you?"

"Exactly what I'd like to know," James answered, amused. "You know, you did this last night, too. What did you say… 'You smell like home… and pine trees.' Do you make a habit out of sniffing people?"

"I said I wasn't sniffing you, and I _don't_ sound like that," she grumbled at his high falsetto imitation of her voice. Gesturing towards the neatly stacked row of nine trays of cookies and biscuits, she said, "Now put me down; we have pastries to deliver."

James gave her another, 'as you wish' smirk before he set her down, bending to pick up the trays of food. As he handed her the four trays of biscuits, he noted vaguely with some guilt that they had left Peter to his own devices to find a way back up the staircase. He had the sneaking suspicion, however, that Peter would manage to find a knothole in one place or other eventually, and take the shortcut.

The thought reminded him suddenly of the conversation they had back in the kitchens, during which they had come rather dangerously close to the topic of his own breach of the magical law, something that had seemed funny at the time, and now, suddenly, less so. It was a subject of much debate, lately, given the past few 'close calls' and near misses, from which he, Peter, Remus, and Sirius all managed to get through with not much more than a few scratches and bruises. Still, he cursed himself for being reckless enough to almost let it slip out.

He supposed the alcohol was to blame, really, given his general avoidance of the topic. Still, though… Remus had been adamant in his insistence that they stop, after the last full moon encounter, one transformation which had been particularly painful and difficult to get past. James wasn't stupid, he knew they were playing with fire every full moon night, but somehow, there was that part of him that did it just for the thrill of doing something dangerous, something that many full-grown wizards wouldn't even dare attempt. He supposed it could be the recklessness of youth, but still, it was… exhilarating, just to let loose every once in a while, right under the headmaster's nose, without him knowing. And Remus enjoyed this part of it as well, he was sure. But then, he was always the one who had weighed every option, every side of an issue thoroughly, before coming to a decision.

There had been many times in which Remus had insisted they stop their full-moon antics, particularly in the beginning, but after a while, he had grown accustomed to it and had grown to anticipate it nearly as much as he and Sirius had… of course, there was always that blinding pain, the feeling of having one's insides turned out, and the vomiting worse than a hangover in the mornings for Remus, something even they couldn't help, but at any rate, the times between the pain and the hangover-like sensations (one of the reasons Remus had never touched alcohol) in the morning had been made bearable by James, Sirius, and Peter.

With a slight chuckle, James followed Lily into the small passageway past the door, a narrow corridor which ended behind the bookshelf in the common room. He remembered when they had first figured out Remus's 'illness' in third year, and Remus had launched into an entire spiel on how he couldn't blame them for not wanting to be his friend, but it couldn't be helped, and whatnot. It had sounded rather rehearsed, now that he thought of it, and had the feeling Remus had been dreading their discovery of his sickness ever since they had met.

_"I expect you won't want to be friends with me, then," Remus had said, his eyes shining. "I'll give you back the Christmas and birthday presents you've given me over the last three years, then. I suppose it's to be expected, really. I just hope you won't go around telling everyone. Will you at least promise me that? It's bad enough, you know, that every full moon, I have my insides turned out and my head feeling like it's split in two. And then the mornings after, I vomit and get ill, with stuff coming out both ends… Which gives me enough an idea of what it's like to be pregnant, really. I don't need everyone hunting after me with a silver bullet as well."_

The whole description, in his then-twelve-year old bluntness had been rather disgusting sounding and pretty much unnecessary in the first place, as they had only wanted to tell him they didn't care. The thought brought on another laugh, and without noticing that Lily had stopped, he collided into her. With a slight '_oomph'_, Lily had spun around and whispered fiercely, "Watch where you're going, Potter."

He tossed her another smirk and leaned against one side of the walls, whilst she peered through a small hole in the wall just behind the bookcase. "Right," she murmured quietly. "Everyone's in their place, it seems. The banners are up, and Evelyn should be bringing Leslie up any minute now."

James nodded, not caring that much. Moving closer to see, he squinted through the darkness in the room to be able to make out the figures of several people hiding behind furniture, and the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling.

He noted to himself that from this position, it was pretty obvious the seventh year girls were supplied with scented soap.

Quite unfair, really.

--

"Evelyn, you don't need your bag to get to dinner."

"Yes, I do; my brush, my mirror, my wand, and my makeup is in there," Evelyn answered, her voice nearing. "And besides, I don't want to be the only one up here… it's pretty creepy when it's dark. I once bumped into a chair and thought it was a lethifold about to smother me."

"Can't you get you bag _after_ dinner?" Leslie's voice wheedled. "Really… I mean, this _is_ my last night here… you know, besides the ball; I don't want to be the last one at the dinner table."

"Well, seeing as we're up here, anyway, I don't see much point in going back," there was a muttered word Lily suspected to be the password and soon enough, there was the sound of the portrait hole swinging open.

And that being their cue, some thirty-odd students leapt out of their hiding places and shouted, "SURPRISE!"

Lily rolled her eyes and swung the door open. Squeezing out from behind the bookshelf, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had been glad to leave behind the musty, dark, passageway, having never been much for being in such close quarters with James Potter. She had the sneaking suspicion that he had been _sniffing_ her, but in all fairness, she hadn't been too discreet in burying her nose in his shoulder, though she swore she'd deny it to her dying day.

The entire encounter in the staircase had been… confusing. She wasn't entirely sure when they had come to such familiar terms that they could joke and play around so easily with each other, at least not to that degree. As she produced the cake before her, several lit up sparklers proclaiming the message, 'Farewell, Leslie and Best of Luck Wherever You Are' in a blazing fire, she gave Leslie a nudge and a smile. "Oh, come on," she muttered, "You couldn't possibly have _not_ anticipated that."

"Me? No, you guys _totally_ caught me by surprise," Leslie insisted as various people in the room came up to hug her. At Lily's disbelieving snort, she said, "Alright, fine, I might have had an idea… Okay, I was practicing my surprised expressions since lunch."

Lily laughed and gave her a quick squeeze, then stepped back as Remus and Peter strolled over. "You have _no_ idea how much I slaved over the cooking for you," Peter muttered. "I mean, really… These little hands have been worked past their due with all the… the…" he faltered as Lily sent him a withering look. "Alright, I confess… Lily did all the cooking."

Leslie smiled and kissed both boys on the cheek before Sirius bounded before them to say, "Well, give us a toast then."

He summoned eight glasses of butterbeer and distributed them among the small cluster of people surrounding her.

"What?"

"A speech," he said. "You know, where you stand up and imagine everyone in their underwear… Well, that always helps me, anyway. I mean, sure, at least three quarters of the room just showed up for the food, but you should at least completely embarrass and publicly humiliate yourself by giving us a little speech to tell us how much you love us, don't you think?"

"No," said Leslie. "No, no, no, no, no… This is my party, and I say-"

"It's your last night, and you need to give us a formal address," Lily agreed, smiling. Pushing Leslie towards a huge pile of parting gifts, she said with a nudge, "Well, go on then, you little tart. Give us a toast."

"I did _not_ sign up for this," Leslie muttered, as Evelyn clinked her glass with her wand, then had Bella put out the small fire in her butterbeer the sparks had started. Sirius then chose this opportune moment to start the couple dozen people around them into a rallying chant of, "Toast! Toast! Toast! Toast!" and added to her, "And not the bread!"

At the encouraging looks from the circle around her, she plowed on, "Alright, listen up people, because you'll only hear this from me once. I really don't know where to start or how to… Um, these last few months have been… great. Who knew school could actually make you learn, y'know? I've made some _fantastic_ friends, met some really great people, and we've shared a lot of laughs, and… a lot of tragedies. Which really, really, _really_ sucks, because who likes tragedy, right?"

"Way to go, Leslie," Sirius called up in support, stood up and clapped.

"I'm not _done_, Sirius," she muttered.

"Oh," looking put out, Sirius sat back down. "Well, how much longer is this going to take?"

"Shut up, you twerp," Bella said, cuffing him up the head. "She's not done."

Leslie ignored them and continued, "But it comes and goes, and after all that… we've managed to stick together. And that's what's important. Friends. They make it worth living to tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, because without them, life would be pretty empty. So here's to our friends, for all the laughs, the tears, the craziness, and… well, for everything… for making me believe there's still good people in this world, you know?" Raising her glass of butterbeer, she repeated, "Here's to our friends." With a sheepish grin, she asked, "Is that it? Am I done?"

"Aww, we love you too!" someone shouted. "Group hug!"

And with a flash of the camera, the moment was preserved for eternity.

--

"You know, I do wonder where you lot manage to _get_ all this butterbeer all the time," Lily said as she poured herself another glass. "I mean, we're never lacking in the beverage department whenever there's cause for celebration."

James shrugged. "We have our ways."

Leslie smirked. "They probably sneak into Hogsmeade and steal it all," she muttered to Lily. "I mean, really… Who stores that much butterbeer in their trunks? And I'm sure the house elves tire of them eventually."

"We do not!" Sirius looked highly affronted. "We leave money, you know."

"Right, well that makes it much better on the moral compass, does it?" Lily asked. "Sneaking out after hours, breaking into someone's shop and taking their stores of food? Right."

Still, though, despite her words, the solemnity had worn off, and no one seemed without cheer in the room. It seemed almost as if someone had cast a cheering charm on all the occupants of the room; despite the cause for the celebration, no one seemed to have expressed any reasons for tears. Come to think of it, someone probably _had_ cast a cheering charm, given that some of the party-goers were looking a bit hysterical in their laughter. Surprisingly, as she watched the rest of their circle chatter mindlessly amongst themselves, she felt no need to scold someone. It was… easy, she realized, this sort of companionship among them, without the strain of enmity between them earlier in the year.

"Alright, I have to ask," Evelyn made a face, "What's with the music? It's just so… so… _sixties_."

Lily laughed. "The music is compliments of dear Leslie here, as we're playing all the hits from here before she leaves back for the good old US of A," she answered. "Speaking of, do us a favor and say hi to those American chaps of yours, will you? No offense, but I'd take England over them any day."

"Cheers," James muttered, raising his glass and clinking it with hers. The group slunk into a period of silence for a while, all reflecting, perhaps, on the last few months, and, even, the last seven years. The broody quiet was broken almost suddenly that Leslie snorted her butterbeer.

"You know, I think we should start a conga line."

The random comment, seemingly from nowhere, appeared a James's elbow, by which Peter was resting on the spot of floor beneath the sofa.

With a contemplative look on his face, he reflected, "I mean, really, don't you think that'd be appropriate? It's a line with a beginning and an end, it's never really straight, and people randomly join or leave in the middle of the song…. It's kind of a metaphor for life, isn't it?"

Ignoring at the sudden silence around him, Peter continued, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully, "Besides that, this party's starting to die and we need some way to get people's attention… and I haven't done the conga ever since…. Ever. I saw it on muggle television once, and… well, it looked like fun."

He glanced around worriedly, as if afraid of his suggestion being shot down.

As the various members overcame the shock of a sudden burst of insight from their groups' usually quietest member, there was a sudden shout of, "Aww…. We love you too, Peter!" and a, "That was just… so beautiful!" No doubt from Sirius, who had seemed to be getting oddly teary-eyed at regularly increasing intervals.

There was a murmur of assent as everyone crowded for another hug. Bewildered but obviously pleased, Peter grinned and shouted to the room, "Who's up for a conga line?"

--

"I _am_ going to miss you guys, you know."

"Aww, stop it, you're making us blush," Lily answered, picking a piece of confetti from her hair, limbs tired already from the conga line that had consisted of nearly the whole of the Gryffindor Common Room. After, though, everyone had disappeared slowly, discreetly, quietly, until it was just their own charmed circle left in the common room, lounging around to delay the inevitable… and to finish the endless plethora of cookies and surplus biscuits. It was nearly midnight now, thus meaning the hour of the actual goodbye was nearing.

"Besides… we have all those…" she gesticulated with her hands as the word escaped her before snapping as she grasped it again, "memories to live through, right?"

"Well, I still say we should hide her in a closet and tell McGonagall the Giant Squid must have eaten her," Sirius said, hanging sloth-like from the sofa. "I mean, sure, she's a bit too bony, probably, but we can say she got too annoying and so we slathered peanut butter all over her and pushed her in… Didn't someone do that once already? In our second year?"

"That was you, Sirius," Remus answered. "You slathered peanut butter over a full-body bound Gregory Gudgeon and threw him in the lake, you tosser. I'm sure that _he_ never forgot it."

Sirius waved a hand impatiently. "I force fed him some gillyweed before that; he was perfectly safe. Just wanted an account of what the Giant Squid looked like, and since I was too busy…. I employed his assistance." With a sniff, he covered a hand over his heart and said dramatically, "Oh, the memories! How I shall miss our dear hoggy-warty Hogwarts when our time comes to leave these hallowed, booby-trapped, ghost-infested halls!"

Leslie sniffled.

"Oh, come on, don't start the waterworks now, Les," James said, a frothing cup of some unknown substance in his hand. "If it's this much over you, I have no clue how many blubbering females we're going to have to deal with once Sirius and I leave school." With a cheeky grin, he bravely took a swig of the drink before spitting it out in disgust.

Lily laughed softly, her feet propped up on his lap. "Ego, much?"

"Count on it, Evans," he replied, before grabbing her foot and tickling it. At her squeal, he answered flippantly, "That's what you get for questioning my authority on all things blubbering and female."

"Well, and sure, because that just made ever so much sense," Evelyn muttered to Bella from an opposite chair. "Quit it with the public displays, would you?"

"What exactly are you implying, Ev?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like, 'bunnies in heat'. Lily ignored her and turned to Leslie. "Well, you know, we should do something to make this moment memorable, since it's probably the last we'll see of each other for awhile. I mean, of course, you'll be writing to me everyday," she sent Leslie a menacing glare for a moment, "but still… we should go out with a bang, right?"

Mutters of agreement sounded amongst their circle.

Leslie smiled, shooting golden sparks from her wand out of boredom. "Well…" she seemed to ponder the thought. "I'd say we should stuff our faces until they have to cut us out of our uniforms, but we've already done that… And I already have a gazillion pictures from you people, so… I think we should do something a little more spontaneous; something that breaks a bunch of rules, seeing that as of midnight, they really won't apply to me anymore, right?"

"Like…?" Sirius prompted. He had perked up visibly at the mention of rule breaking.

"Well, since I'm sure there _is_ a way, just as I know you'd find it…" Leslie drew a long breath before saying, "I think we should sneak into Hogsmeade. We have, what, two more hours until midnight, right? Well, McGonagall will probably come looking for us fifteen minutes prior, so until then…"

Lily groaned, sliding her feet of James's lap. "You must be kidding me, Leslie… That leaves us about an hour, not to mention the risk of running into teachers and-"

"It was your idea to let this go out with a bang," Leslie answered, cutting her off. "And seeing as it was _your_ idea, you can't retract it. And if we see any teachers, we'll just bolt. Besides, half the fun is the risk of getting caught."

"Famous last words," Lily muttered.

"C'mon, Evans," James nudged her, sliding off the sofa and grabbing her by her feet. "Don't argue just for the sake of arguing; live a little. We've been trying to get you to do something spontaneous all year. Are you saying all that's going to waste?"

Lily sighed, hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine. But let the record state, I did not come willingly."

Leslie clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing to the balls of her feet.

--

Most of the trip through the crowded tunnel behind the one-eyed witch's statue had been a blur, James remembered, sitting at his table, having been abandoned by all his friends, save for Remus, who was similarly viewing the group dancing before them with mild interest, and no intent at all to join.

He had laughed when Sirius had twirled Leslie around, and, with the help of some rather poor transfiguration skills, he had transfigured a table napkin into a rather wrinkly crown, more or less, crowning her the princess for the next hour or so before she had to leave. He had joined in on the last minute toasts, with their sometimes crude jokes and boatload of memories… half of which he himself hadn't been present for. As Sirius started a head bang on the dance floor, James let out a low chuckle… Sirius had always been quite good at distracting people from the inevitable.

His gaze trailing, he finally rested his eyes on the sight of Lily and her friends nearby. She wasn't dancing, really, seeming out of place, almost. He didn't kid himself to presume to know or understand her yet, but he did have an inkling that she must be feeling out of her element there; as much as he knew they both loathed the formal dance floor at school, he was also quite sure of his steps there, at least. Here, it was a different sort of game being played.

As he mulled these thoughts, she seemed to echo them, saying something inaudible over the blasting of music, and wandered over to the bar. He had been about to walk over, ready to exchange their usual banter, when, it appeared, someone else had the same idea. It was a tall, dark headed fellow; one James recognized to be the Ravenclaw quidditch captain, having played against their team a few times. Biased though he might be, he had always considered their own team to be far the superior. But then, he observed, Lily didn't seem to have much trouble with him; she seemed, in fact to be enjoying herself. Oh. Well then. She was laughing. The Ravenclaw bloke had made her laugh.

A low chuckle behind him made him turn. It was Remus, with his usual wolfish grin, perhaps the only physical trace of their full-moon escapades. Leaning forward, he murmured, "It's rude to stare, James."

"I wasn't staring."

"You were looking at the same spot for a minute and a half without even blinking once," Remus answered. "I think that's the dictionary definition for staring. You know if you're that bothered by the sight of them, you can always just look away."

James raised a brow at the tone of voice his friend had taken; it was a taunt, his last comment, testing for a reaction, insinuating… things. "Don't say it," he muttered.

"Say what, exactly?"

James rolled his eyes. Sirius really was a bad influence on him, he decided. Moony had been much more bearable before, way back in first year… Or, he was sure, he would have been, could he himself remember more from first year.

"I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong." Remus gave him a politely curious expression, and James laughed. "You think I'm jealous. And I'm not. I'm just…. Looking out for her, is all. She might need something of a… big brother, I think."

Remus gave him a supercilious stare. "And what, exactly, does big brother need?"

James laughed, twisting back to see his friend. "A little sister."

--

Flattery, they say, will get you anywhere.

Lily herself had never put much thought behind the expression, but clearly Andrew Harris believed it to be true. He had approached her from behind as she had just escaped the closely pressed quarters of the dance floor, for a much needed water break, catching her by surprise. She wasn't quite sure why she had let him stay; it wasn't as though she was looking for a relationship _now_, of all times, but it was… well, flattering, that someone thought so much of her. And though she didn't quite want to admit it, for fear of sounding vain and self-serving… she liked the attention.

And so, she ignored the fact he was pressing a tad closer than necessary, his fingertips barely grazing her arm, and he had chosen to pay for her drink. It wasn't in her nature to do so, she knew, and couldn't quite understand why she was accepting it, from a near stranger, no less. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her friends clustered together watching her, Remus also looking at her with a bemused smile, whilst James studied the bubbles in his glass of butterbeer… well, that's what she hoped it was, anyway.

Sirius, on the other hand, didn't take any notice to the company he was keeping and ignored all rules of subtlety as he broke through the gaggle of girls surrounding him and bounded her way cheerily.

"Lilykins!" he shouted. As he reached her, his arm snaked around her shoulder almost territorially and he grinned at Andrew, who gave the pair of them a bewildered look. "Why, Lily-bean, you've yet to introduce me to your… this… person, here."

Andrew gaped. "I, erm…" he turned to her almost desperately that she had to suppress the urge to laugh. "Are you two involved? Because if you were, then-"

As Lily began to furiously shake her head and tried to disengage Sirius's arm, his other arm just grabbed her loose and unsuspecting hand and encircled her waist.

"Why, yes, Lily and I… we're special friends," Sirius said, adding a knowing wink at 'special friends'. Tightening his grip against her waist, he raised the hand clasped in his and gave it a sloppy kiss, smirking up at Andrew. "Very, very, very special friends, if you catch my drift. And… I'm sorry; I don't know who you are. Lily?" He turned to his special friend innocently. "Are you going to introduce us?"

Lily glared, and could see Evelyn and Bella rolling their eyes, Remus making a poor attempt to hide his laughter, and James spraying butterbeer through his nose. "This, Sirikins, is Andrew Harris. He's the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team," she said coolly.

"Oh, is that so?" Sirius lifted a brow in feigned interest, giving him a polite smile. "A raven, is he? I say, didn't the Gryffindors win against the Ravenclaws… twelve times? Can't say much for your strategy, then, can we? You know, my other special friend, Jamsie," he nodded in James's general direction, "he's the captain of the Gryffindor team. It's basically undefeated."

"Well, I'm afraid most games involving just brute strength must be Gryffindor's forte, then," Andrew replied crisply. "We Ravenclaws rely on our wit to guide us… Any game requiring more than a few brain cells will usually go to us, I believe."

"Is that really?" Sirius asked, smiling toothily and ignoring the dull pain in his foot from Lily stomping on it. "Well, than why is it that my special friends here were both made Head Boy and Girl and you had to settle… probably not for the first time in your life, I'm willing to bet."

"That was low, Sirius," Lily muttered. "Would you _please_ shut your trap for once?"

"I don't see what's wrong with a little friendly house competition," Sirius answered, smiling dazzlingly at Andrew. "Wouldn't you say so, mate?"

"Indeed."

"So, why don't we, ah, step outside and try to resolve things the old-fashioned way?"

"Have you gone completely mad, Sirius?" Lily hissed, stomping on his foot with renewed vigor. "This is completely ridiculous. You can't possibly be serious-"

Sirius grinned at her with a dazzling smile and cut her off as he swooped down and kissed her.

--

James inwardly winced in sympathy as he watched his friend lower his head and plant a sloppy kiss on Lily Evans.

Lily, whose eyes were still open and looking wildly in every direction, didn't seem to appreciate the fact that she was in the position most girls would give an arm for... maybe two, actually, if he remembered the amount of broken limbs at quidditch tryouts there had been, all due to the fact Sirius had shown up to cheer James on. Nor did she seem to appreciate the fact that he was saving her from… er, whatever it was Sirius thought he was saving her from. In fact, she didn't seem to appreciate any bit of the situation at all.

James shook his head, as across from him, Remus had finally abandoned all pretense of trying to still his laughter and was now snorting into his drink. It was quite amusing, he admitted, given that Sirius himself had always considered her to be like a sister. And now they were snogging the daylights out of each other- well, it was a bit one-sided, given the fact that Lily, while she had given up fighting him off, was rather limply staring apologetically at… whoever that guy had been.

Who _had_ he been, anyway?

Shrugging at Remus, James lifted himself from the table and strode over to the three, who resembled an odd comedy scene, almost, and waved to the fellow Lily had been speaking to, while Lily herself seemed to be in the process of removing her shoe, which James had a funny feeling was going to connect with Sirius's head.

Sure enough, the sound of a dull clunk sounded, and Sirius rubbed the spot, complaining loudly. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"You're molesting me, that's what, you dolt!"

James chuckled, holding out his hand at the tall boy staring at the pair with an expression of loss and confusion. "Sorry 'bout him, mate… They're not really dating, just so you know. He's just concerned about her, is all; he's practically her brother, y'know."

The boy gave him a wary look before shaking the proffered hand. "I'm Andrew," he introduced himself. "And I know who you are, I've seen you at Prefect meetings and quidditch games."

James inclined his head politely. "Fantastic," he answered. "So we can skip those pleasantries, then."

Andrew looked almost fearful, no doubt due to Sirius's colorful introduction.

"I… I just asked her out for a date," he muttered in explanation. "She seemed to take it well at the time, I mean… She didn't say no."

James's eyes flickered to the girl in question, who seemed to be giving Sirius the telling off of his lifetime. "She's a special person," he answered simply, cocking his head as he chose his words carefully. "To all of us. So if anyone were to hurt her… Just know she has about four brothers fully willing to _Avada Kedavra_ your brains out at a nod or flick of a finger from her. And I realize it must seem a bit rich to get lectured from me, when I'm sure you're well aware of our history, but…" James trailed off and gave Andrew an easy smile. "At any rate, just hope you know what you're signing on for."

"I'll take my chances."

"Good," James replied.

--

"_Ugh_!" Lily shuddered as they wandered their way back through to the secret passageway, making a face as she took a large gulp of butterbeer. "I'm still trying to wash out the taste of _Sirius Black_ out of my mouth."

Sirius grinned. "Oh, come on, it was for your own good. You can't honestly say that nancy-boy Andrew is a better kisser than me, can you?"

Lily gave him a look of disgust. "Well, thanks to you, I'll never know, will I? Is this what you're going to do now? Scare away all my potential suitors until I'm forty?"

"If that's what it takes, dearie," Sirius answered cheerfully, whistling as he moved ahead of their group through the passageway.

James dropped his voice as he fell in step beside her. "You do realize he's only looking out for you, right? He really does have your best interests at heart; he's just… expressing it in the only way he knows how."

Lily raised a brow. "By sabotage? I can look after myself without you lot, you know. I thought we'd all gotten over the 'eggshell' phase; and now suddenly the first time a guy shows interest in me, it's all 'protective and overbearing big brother' act?" She sighed. "I don't really care about Andrew, really, not that much. Just the fact that your friend's being a pain in the arse about it…"

James shrugged. "That's Sirius for you; what did you expect? He cares about you. We all care about you," he muttered softly. "But this Andrew bloke, he seems like a nice enough guy. I think he'd still be willing to meet with you."

"You think?" Lily's lip twitched. "I dunno; I never really cared about it much… He only asked me out today, after all, and I didn't even give him a real answer," she let out a chuckle. "Silly, really, all this fuss over something that probably never would have gone anywhere at all."

"I think you should go."

"Why?" she laughed slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be all overprotective and broody as well?"

"Nah, I'd be much more subtle, starting with stealing all his clothes at quidditch practice, then hanging his lucky knickers on the goal posts, and if he really rubs me the wrong way, I'd probably end up slipping a potion in his drink making him inexplicably attractive to both the female and male population of Slytherin," he answered with a grin. Sobering slightly, he answered, "It's a taste of normal, Lily. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I suppose," she sighed. Picking a bit of dirt from her nails as they walked in stooped positions in the passageway, she said, "It's just that… After all that… _wanting_ for something so normal, well… there it is. And I'm not so sure I really want to take it. You know?"

James turned his head to look at her, and an amused look took over his sober expression. "No, actually. I'd jump at the chance."

She smiled slightly. "Well, it's not as though you haven't had plenty of opportunities."

"_Touché_," he shrugged. With a half smile, he murmured, "I'm waiting for something better, I suppose. Someone who fits me, if that makes any sense… the brainless acts are getting kind of old."

"Then I guess I'm waiting too."

--

"You've got everything, then?" Lily repeated for the fourth time as they trudged down the stairs, three large trunks levitating before them. Half an hour upon returning to the Gryffindor Tower, they had retreated to their dorms as the others cleaned up the damage in the Common Room. "Wand, books, essays, journals, camera, clothes… everything?"

"Everything," Leslie rolled her eyes. Clucking her tongue, she muttered, "And what will you do when you don't have me to condescend and hen-pick?"

"Oh, I suppose there's always Potter," she answered cheerfully. "Are you sure you've got everything? Because I don't fancy having to burden my owl with lugging your underwear over the Atlantic."

"What about underwear, now?"

Lily glanced over her shoulder. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Black, the sloppy kisser. And get your mind out of the gutter, will you? We need to get her to the front of the building before McGonagall shows up and bites all our heads off for slowing them down."

With a sigh, she watched as Sirius dutifully swept Leslie off the floor and carried her out the door, the trunks clumsily leading the way outside the portrait hole. It was only the beginning, and yet, somehow, everything was ending. She wondered vaguely if it would feel the same when they all left Hogwarts. Probably not; Black and Potter would most likely end up moving into a flat next door to hers as soon as they graduated, just for the sake of annoying her.

"Shouldn't you be out there by now?"

Lily started at the sound of the voice, one she had to admit she didn't hear quite often enough. "Peter! You startled me."

Standing by the window, Peter gave a chuckle. "Shouldn't you be out there?" he repeated. "With them?"

Lily frowned as she walked over. Below the window, almost directly, was a small mass of people in separate clusters, apparently all the exchange students and their friends. In a small row away, the teachers stood by, observing, as they always seemed to be, silent and unwavering. Nothing ever seemed to change with them.

Turning back to face Peter, she smiled, "I was on my way down. Just checking to see if she didn't leave anything behind. And what about you? Aren't you supposed to be down there?"

Peter shrugged. "Maybe." She gave him a small smile as she made to go to the portrait hole, until she heard his voice again. "They wouldn't notice, you know."

"They wouldn't notice… what, exactly?"

"Me, there, existing," he said, a slight hint of bitterness in his voice as he smiled a painful smile. "They never do. That's why I'm up here. By myself. As always. Because I don't think they'd really care enough to notice me. Great friends I have, right?"

Lily frowned. "Peter, I don't think…"

"They don't do it on purpose," Peter continued as he glared outside the window. "They just can't help overshadowing me, forgetting me. You know who everyone thinks of when they hear 'the Marauders'? James, Sirius, and Remus. I'm just an afterthought. Poor Peter Pettigrew, the little boy who toddles around after the big kids on the playground. Maybe that's why they don't notice. Because I don't notice myself."

"Peter, I…" Lily faltered. It was true, what he said… He never was seen quite on the same level as his friends. And she, who had always prided herself in noticing, had failed to realize it. "I'm sorry."

"Don't pity me," Peter answered. With a sort of twisted smile, he answered, "I'm the one who made the glaringly obvious mistake of befriending people so much… higher than me. And that's just going to make you pity me more, isn't it?" He waited for a while.

"I'm… sorry, Peter," she frowned. Glancing out the door, she noted the Knight Bus had arrived already, and only a small cluster was out now. They were waiting, she realized. For her. "I have to.."

"Go," he nodded. "And don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Lily hesitated as she reached the portrait hole.

"I'm happy," Peter said in a sardonic voice. "My friends love me. Just… go and say your goodbyes."

--

He was sick of saying goodbye.

As he hugged Leslie and murmured a quick, "Take care," into her tousled hair, he found that he had never quite hated a word such as 'goodbye' so much. It was a sad thing to say, and rather depressing… He had said it too much. And it didn't matter under what pretense, because in the end, it just meant that they wouldn't be seeing each other again.

"This really sucks," Bella said as she, Evelyn, Leslie, and Lily enveloped each other in a four-way hug. "We're going to miss you _so_ much around here!"

That just about summed it up, James thought with a flicker of a laugh inside. Girls were bound to be a bit more showy with the whole act, he supposed, but all the same… they were right. It really sucked. A lot. With a sigh, he took a seat at the snow covered bench conveniently placed by the entrance, noting that most of the other exchange students were now already on board the bus, glaring at their group.

"She's not _dying_," Remus muttered as he stepped behind James. "And it's not as though we won't write every once in a while. There's no need to get all weepy."

"I can't help it!" burst a hysterical Sirius. "We're going to be so far apart! I can't bear it!"

"Aww, I'm going to miss you too, Sirius!" Leslie murmured, pulling him into their group hug. "Remus, get your arse over here!"

"You're using British slang now, are you?" he muttered as he exchanged another look with James. With a sigh, he smiled and hugged them as well, "Take care, Leslie. We're going to miss your impersonations of our favorite gamekeeper."

James laughed. Leslie's eyes narrow. "You too, Potter, get over here," she demanded. James lazily left his stoop and strolled over, and was pulled in by his collar.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too," he muttered, and placed an affectionate kiss on her head. He wondered if this would be how it was when they graduated… All this drifting apart, and no matter how hard they tried to stay together… Nothing seemed to last anymore, nothing was permanent enough. What was the point? He caught the Head Girl's eye as Leslie stepped away from their crowd, now with the addition of a small basket containing four stuffed animals: a wolf, a dog, a stag, and a mouse… Rather obvious, really, but no one ever seemed to get it.

"So this is it," Leslie sighed as she turned on the last step of the bus. "Keep in touch, okay? I'm going to miss you guys so much!"

A chorus of, 'we love you too' and 'take care' sounded after her announcement, as she finally ascended the steps and plopped into what seemed to be a loft bed, and waved frantically out the window for a fraction of a second, before with a bang, the bus vanished out of their view. James could have sworn he had seen a few trees jump out of the way, though.

"Well, she's gone," Lily said, the first to break the silence as they all stared off in the direction the bus had gone, looking for a nothing. More softly, that James suspected only he had heard, she murmured, "She was only the first to leave."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He knew what it meant. And as her startled expression turned to a blank one, he was sure she knew it, too.

Nothing was ever permanent.

--

--

**(A/N):** Finally! The chapter's done! Now don't be surprised if it turns up updated in a few weeks; that's just me revising after rereading my work and being disgusted by it. Once again, I'm going to plug a piece of fanart that I found to be my idea of the perfect Lily, minus the green 

Oh, yes, terribly sorry that Lily's first kiss in the entire story so far was from Sirius, but… yeah.

To Come: Filler chapter, calm before the storm, then comes the actual storm, then the lovely aftermath, and… all that jazz. We get a bit of handholding, and a few sappy moments, I suppose, not to say that our favorite couple actually becomes a couple yet… erm, if that made any sense.

Don't expect the next chappie for a while; high school's just been… very strenuous this year, my mother just had a healthy baby girl… yay for her. Do feel free to e-mail me at for updates on the story or general egging me on for updates… You guys really do help in getting me off my lazy arse and onto the keyboard! And besides, if you write to me, the chances are that I'll reply. And if I don't… either I didn't read it or I just generally suck at life, which means you should just send me another e-mail. J

Off to do homework now… Happy Halloween! Til next time, dearies!


	26. Spinning and Stopping

Chapter 26

**(A/N): **Back from the great beyond at last, as you can see, and absotively ecstatic about HBP, yay!

I figured I should update this soon, before it came to be a year since I'd updated… I know, I'm absotively horrid with updating, but I swear, I'm not quitting! If you really are looking to get updates on this fic, my livejournal would be the place to go (see my homepage on my profile). I post snippets, progress, and just random things that strike me at the moment there, so please do check it out. It also has a post on my plans for the future of this fanfics, post-HBP, so… yeah.

Much love goes out to the ladies of TGB, Holly, Dede, Christy, Runi, Sarina, Jenna, Missy, and Erin, who squee with me over HBP and our Potterholicalism. Oh, and Kelly and Anna, of course, in all their sub-modliness glory are lovely as well, as they both have helped me cope with dreadful amounts of writer's block and anticipation of the next book. Much squeeage went on there.

The Bible (aka, the HP Lexicon) and Holly managed to save me from a rather horrid moment of writer's block, when I was trying to figure out food dishes… I 3 you both!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the spaces between.

---

It was a common rule, as Lily had discovered, that once something good happened to you, it wasn't long before something equally bad happened as well.

A balance, equilibrium, always existed; never changed, and never wavered… something tipping the scales just a bit was always rectified before it could spark some catastrophic occurrence that was sure to happen. But what didn't seem fair was that whenever something bad happened- there wasn't a rule that something equally good happened. Life was unfair that way.

But so it was, and so it had been for an eternity or two, and until some unknown, unnamed power that was would change that, things were likely to stay this way.

"Doesn't seem fair, does it?" she muttered to the cat at her feet, rubbing affectionately against her legs. The cat purred in response. She had always had an odd affinity with cats- they just seemed so much more intelligent than other animals. Dogs, for example. While she hadn't seen many dogs in her seven years at Hogwarts, she had glimpsed a mangy stray around the Forbidden Forest once or twice, in the company of a stag and a rat, though she supposed she shouldn't pass judgment on the company a dog keeps. There were stranger things, after all. Such as Sirius Black having friends.

"What doesn't see fair?"

"Potter," she acknowledged him. "I was just… thinking."

"Obviously," he grinned as he jumped over an armchair and plopped down before her. "You're Lily Evans; therefore, you're always thinking. I just want to know if it was the usual twaddle, or something worth wasting breath over."

"Not really," she wrinkled her nose. "Just that things are going to be so very… different, without Leslie. She was a distraction from all the mess of things lately, and I just… needed that for a while. Now there's nothing between me and my… morbid thoughts." She gave him a small smile, shrugging. "But I suppose I had to cope with it on my own eventually."

"You do have me," he answered. "And, y'know, Sirius and Remus and Peter… and all your friends that I can't stand."

She laughed, tilting her head in that way he knew she did at least seventeen times a day. "I'll be fine, Potter. I was just… being tragic. I do that sometimes, you know," she murmured with a touch of irony.

She was quiet, then, and more to break the silence and awkwardness of moment than anything else, James spoke again.

"Evans…" He smiled, the side of his mouth tilting up slightly in that maddeningly infuriating way he seemed to do effortlessly, "Do you want to dance with me?"

"Excuse me?"

He sighed, as though speaking to a small child. "Dance. With me. It's all we ever do, isn't it?"

"But… why?" She had never understood him, never. And she doubted she ever would. The most random things would pop out of his mouth, yet come out sounding the most natural things in the world. He had a way with words, she supposed. That prat.

He gave her a floppy smile again. "Do you really need to question everything? I'm trying to be romantic."

"With me?"

"Not in that sense, you daft cow," he muttered. "You looked sad. I don't do well with crying girls. So…?"

Lily sniffed, muttering, "Cow? I happen to have a very delicate self image, I'll have you know… you may have just shattered it."

"Right, because you're such a delicate and fragile flower," he scoffed, as Lily winced at the pun. "Well, you can't argue with me there; you did nearly hex me into oblivion on more than one occasion, after all."

"Would you say it was undeserved?"

Wisely choosing to remain silent, he offered his hand.

---

He was being romantic.

That had been his reply, he replayed the moment in his mind, seeing the look of surprise on her face. As though he meant in the soppy, romance-novel, winged-cupid-having, fluttery heart, butterflies-in-stomach kind. Then it had registered to her that it would make no sense. And really, it didn't. That wasn't his place, after all, as one could hardly expect two people who hated each other to fall in love in a few weeks. But he had become her friend, he admitted, and maybe something deeper than friendship had formed, as could only happen between two people who knew each other so long.

He didn't like to think of her as a female version of Sirius (as the thought struck terror in the hearts of… everyone) though it was about the closest analogy he could think of. He cared for her, he admitted, for her well-being. He couldn't pinpoint the moment- and he never understood those people who could pinpoint their emotions. Humans weren't as simplistic as that, he didn't think; time gradually changed things, not in a moment, not in a second, not in a millisecond, not in… any measurable form of time.

_"Dance with me,"_ he had said, as though they were in that inevitable part of any romance novel, with the swelling music and the pouring rain and… whatever it was that characterized _that_ moment. The only problem was they weren't in love… they weren't anything, really. And the moment was rather ruined by the fact that they lacked every other characteristic of that magic moment because of that detail. _"It's all we ever do, isn't it?"_

He realized there was probably a metaphor buried somewhere in there- but he didn't look to find it. Metaphors were useless crap for romantics, after all. He liked to consider himself a realist, sensible and… well, rational. But he could be romantic when he wanted to be… and he was. For her.

He had long since stopped trying to sort out his feelings for Lily Evans; they were impossible. He remembered in his fifth year he had devoted a great deal of time to the subject, when he had been completely, utterly, maddeningly besotted with her. He wasn't sure why, still… he supposed it had been a brief case of wanting what he couldn't get- as well as having hormones brimming out of his ears. She had rejected him, of course. He didn't blame her; he had been a bit of a jerk that year. That lifetime.

In a whirlwind of discovery, he and his friends had managed to become so taken with themselves for their accomplishments, believing they had been able to cure Remus in a way no one else ('…_not even Dumbledore!'_ he remembered saying to Sirius at the time) had. And in the process, had become probably the biggest pricks known to Hogwarts. Then came the disaster with Snape that had deflated his head a bit, though it hadn't made him lose his swagger completely. It hadn't been until sixth year that he had emotionally matured notably, though he hadn't changed altogether too much. McGonagall had been pleased, though, to find that he had come back at the start of term _sans_ the attitude. And then she had sighed disappointedly as she assigned him a detention for terrorizing the first years by transfiguring one's book into a frog.

Well, one couldn't be expected to work miracles.

He would be lying if he said he'd never considered Lily Evans in the romantic sense even after the fifth year incident. She was a very pretty girl- _No, she's beautiful_, he amended as he glanced down at the redhead stepping in time to a silent melody- and he had a weakness of being attracted to that kind of girl. But he was sure that wasn't the reason. Even if she had been the ugliest person he'd ever known (though it was rather difficult to imagine this… hang on, he recalled a time when he did think so… first year, was it?) he was sure he still would have been attracted to her… she sparkled.

And so little in his life did. What was that expression? '_All that glitters is not gold.'_

"What?"

Oh. He'd said that out loud. "Nothing, just thinking to myself," he muttered apologetically. Apologetically for breaking the spell… she had smiled, accepting his unsatisfactory answer.

But there was so little sparkle in his life. His parents had been rather dull, in their pristine frames, the picture of matrimonial… success, he supposed it was called. A successful union. Not a memorable one, but they had cared for each other, in their own way. But they had always been so distant, it was difficult to imagine any sort of passion between the two (though he didn't try to imagine that sort of thing very often… shudder to think). Their world had been rather boring, to be frank, and meeting Lily Evans had been a blast of… sparkle.

She had been the picture of… well, color. Her hair a vibrant red ('_how he had detested it!'_ his eleven year old self reminded him) and her eyes a sparkling green (_'how very unnatural!' _his eleven year old self interjected). The exact opposite of him; he had been dull, much like his parents. His hair black and messy, his eyes hazel and… non-descript. And then he had met his friends, somehow, and her. And suddenly, the world was in color. As though they were in a black-and-white movie picture and suddenly the world had shifted to color.

"Do you think she'll write?"

Startled, and jolted out of his reverie, James glanced down at the girl whom he had just registered to be saying something. "Who?" he had asked rather unintelligently.

"Leslie," she said, giving him a look of surprise. "Who else?"

He shrugged. Leslie seemed so far away, so removed from the moment. Considering his words carefully, he quoted, "_Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company._"

"What?" She was smiling, drawing her head back in surprise.

"I don't know. I'm no good with words when it comes to things like this, so I steal the words of other people… famous people," he admitted. She laughed. He decided he liked her laugh. Well- no, he didn't decide; one didn't just _decide_ to like someone's laugh… he just… did.

"Well, an answer would be appropriate," she replied. "You don't need to always choose your words so carefully, y'know. Not with me, anyway. I think after seven years of knowing you, I'd be able to interpret whatever it is you say."

He bent his head in acknowledgement of this fact, noticing how awkward-looking their feet were from this angle. Feet were such strange things… small, flat, and yet able to hold up a towering figure of a person- oh… was she saying something again?

"James Potter," she smirked, "Please tell me you weren't just thinking about our feet... not when we were having a somewhat passably nice moment."

"What- how did you-"

"I know all," she answered superciliously.

_How did she _do_ that?_ But then, how did she do anything she did? She did it by being incredible at everything, he supposed. It was the way of the universe, after all, and he wasn't one to argue with the universe and its… erm, ways. He was getting redundant. _She_ had that effect on him.

"What?" she smiled, looking up at him curiously. At his inquiring expression, she elaborated, "That… look you just had. You looked like you had just… never mind." She sighed, quickly retreating her gaze.

A gesture was required of him, he knew. He was supposed to say something sweet and funny that would erase the sudden bits of tension floating around in the air. He couldn't think of anything; she had him at a disadvantage here. She could always say what was on her mind; he had lost the ability to… blurt.

"You're amazing," he managed. She looked surprised at this statement that had come about forty-five seconds after her last words. Surprised, but pleased, nonetheless.

_That'll do._

---

He was being romantic.

Not in that fluffy, pink-filled, saccharine way she had foolishly thought for the barest glimpse of seconds. In another way. And she had to agree… it was sweet, really. He was a bit of a mystery, really, when he was being nice to her. She had understood him so much better when they had hated each other. But then, she considered, perhaps she had never really known him at all… It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment they became friends- she wasn't quite sure anyone _could_ pinpoint emotions like that. But she supposed it had been somewhere in the muddle of things between fifth and seventh year, when suddenly things seemed… less important, somehow, in light of all the drama and tragedy around them.

"Dance with me," he had said. "Isn't that all we ever do?"

She wasn't daft; she had caught the metaphor there, but she didn't think of him as one to use a metaphor for this sort of thing. And thus, she took it to mean all those steps they had taken revolving around the Great Hall in the past few years, rather than the metaphorical version that was decidedly more appealing to her inner hopeless romantic.

How he had come to read her so well, she wasn't sure… she had always prided herself in being a bit of a mystery to others; who wanted to be read like a book, after all? But then, after a while, she had tired of that game… and it was nice to be understood once it a while. And he did. Understand, that is. She had been longing for something… a void, really, something to cling to, and he had managed to fill it, if temporarily. Maybe not in the romantic sense, but at least, with some form of love she'd been missing.

Love.

Such a small word; probably the worst four-letter word in the dictionary, she mused. And there were so many forms… She knew, in some small part of herself, she did love him, in some way or other. She just wasn't _in_ love with him. A pity, really, as otherwise this might have been an incredibly romantic moment. Instead, it was just a moment between friends. _Friends_… was that what they were? It seemed strange to her that two people could go from hating each other to being even the slightest of friends. But that was the closest thing to it.

Maybe not exactly… she couldn't define it as friendship exactly, not in the way she was friends with Evelyn and Bella. It was more complicated than that… She could never see them becoming friends in every sense of the word, but this was the closest thing to it as they would ever get, she supposed.

She could feel him breathing.

It was a steady in and out. _In._

Through the shirt she had been inhaling earlier, she could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest… warm. He was warm. He had been cold when he had walked in, smelling of the Forbidden Forest and something else she couldn't quite place. Then there had been a brief conversation, she remembered, and then there was… this. Whatever it was. She wasn't sure that this was something friends might do, but she was certain it was making her feel less… empty, which was something to file away under the friendship category.

They had made idle conversation while dancing, as they always did. A distraction, a diversion, anything to bring reality back. She couldn't quite remember the exact lines of their conversation, only recalled his last words, "You're amazing."

While flattery was always nice to hear, there had been something in the simplicity of his response to her silence that had made her smile and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek. He had stilled, she remembered, and she had whispered cheekily into his ear, "I know."

And then there had been more silence. Silence had always been awkward… but every once in a while, she found it comforting. It was a break from the mindless chatter of life, to keep her from constantly going through the motions half-heartedly. Instead, she had been able to think. She had sighed slightly, managing to somehow slip into a rhythm with him, a simple pattern of steps. She supposed this might look strange to any passing students who came through the portrait hole; the Head Boy and Girl dancing to a song it seemed only they could hear. But then, she no longer worried too much on what others thought of what she did; it was far too time consuming. She had resolved to just enjoy the moment while it lasted, before something inevitably broke the spell.

_"Isn't it all we ever do?"_ he had asked. She should have answered no. They stopped, they always did.

At least, they'd have to eventually.

_Out._

---

"You're my destiny."

"Go away, Sirius."

"Your cold and hostile retorts don't hurt me. They melt away with the burning passion in my heart."

"It's seven in the morning… how can anyone be this chipper at seven in the morning?"

"Yes, it's my curse… I have a thing for splotchy girls with tangled hair and morning breath, you see … erm, not that you're splotchy, or anything, Evans. No, you're quite lovely looking in the morning, I must say. And you're hair isn't all _that_ tangled. Erm… what was it I was saying?"

"If I throw a stick, would you leave me alone?" Lily looked pained. And her hair really wasn't _that_ tangled. She didn't think so, at least.

"No, he'll just keep coming back and slobber all over you," Remus replied, glancing up from his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "Believe me, I've tried."

Lily sighed, and turned to the hyper-energetic boy next to her. Sirius was not the bad looking sort, she mused… actually, he was quite attractive, come to think of it. She wondered vaguely why she had never considered him in the romantic sense when so many other girls did. She supposed it had something to do with how he had always been something of a brother she'd never had and always wanted to replace Petunia with… though she dreaded the day anyone would have to live with Sirius.

"What do you want, Black?"

"A date to this coming Hogsmeade weekend."

She laughed. "After the way you mauled me last night? I think not. I've got severe emotional scarring from that experience, I'll have you know."

"Nothing to the mental scarring the rest of us suffered from witnessing it," Remus assured her.

"You know you want to…" Sirius wheedled persuasively still.

And she laughed again. "Please, Black, why on _earth _would you want me to go with you? Aren't there six tragically mislead Hufflepuffs hoping for an offer such as this one as we speak?"

Sirius nodded grimly. "Gertrude Wallace. Cornered me as I was sneaking back from a stroll to the kitchens last night… or this morning, if you're picky about it. Never met a scarier sight… All four hundred pounds of cold, lonely death awaited me as I turned the corner past a statue of Ulrich the Unpleasant, smelling faintly like shedding cats and… cabbage."

"So you, what, told her you were going with me?" Lily frowned. "That's not nice, Sirius… you could have at least-"

"Nice? She cornered _me_ in an ambush attack… how is there anything nice about that? She's… pale. Translucent, really. And- and- she has lots of freckles. All over her face. I swear, if you connected the dots, you'd find a Monet painting… or possibly modern art, I've never been much of an art aficionado myself, you know. But… Lily… please…" he wheedled. "Her nose is off-center. Do you want me to be seen in the company of some random freckle face with an odd nose… surrounded by the smell of month old cabbage and rabid cats?"

"That's terribly shallow, Sirius. She could be a great person underneath all that," Lily muttered. "Love of your life, in fact. Haven't you grown as a person at all these last seven years?"

"Lily, dear, I love you like pancakes, but don't you know me at all?" Sirius blinked up at her.

Stupid puppy dog eyes.

---

And that was why, Lily supposed, she was stuck in the company of one Sirius Black when the weekend arrived, browsing the expensive and expansive gift shops of Hogsmeade in the search of a gift for his cousin's upcoming birthday. His cousin was, supposedly, an "evil little twit, even more cheeky and snotnosed than the rest of my family" in Sirius's own words… though after a moment's recollection he said rather affectionately, "He kind of reminds me of me when I was six… nowhere near as talented, of course, but still… duke of chaos just the same."

Lily supposed she didn't need to ask who the king of chaos was.

"How about this?" she picked up the closest item in a display marked as on sale, which happened to be a broom polishing kit.

Sirius gave her a look. "I think not. Think outside the box, here."

"I don't see your point here," she replied, chucking a miniature broom at him across the display.

"Well…. What would you get _me_ if I were turning six years old?"

"A muzzle," came the tart reply.

Sirius cocked his head to the side, as if he found the conversation incredibly funny. "Very well," he laughed, "Find one and wrap it up."

Lily sighed, browsing through the collection of items before them. "Really, I think it's a no go here, Sirius. Perhaps we should just go and meet up with the others at the Three Broomsticks?"

"I could do with some food and nourishment," he admitted.

His stomach gave a growl that seconded the sentiment.

"Honestly, do you ever have more than two minutes of thought not interrupted by fantasies about food?" Lily muttered as they abandoned the store, walking the familiar route to the Three Broomsticks. After having been in Black's company for the entirety of the day, she had to admit, her stomach was beginning to growl as well. Much more pleasantly though, she thought. His stomach sounded like a dying animal. She liked to think of her own as just a quiet rumbling. "I mean, really – do you really have to see the world through your stomach?"

"'Course not," Sirius replied happily, brightened by the prospect of food, "I do it by choice."

Lily rolled her eyes in reply.

"C'mon, then," he tugged at her arm, "I heard Rosmerta's introducing a new dish today, and she always gives me free samples."

"If you insist," she agreed, laughing.

---

"Really, Rosmerta, you've out done yourself this time," Sirius mumbled through the food. Over the past four years, he had managed to perfect the art of speaking intelligibly with his mouth full. "Spectacular. I'm naming all my children after this dish. What's it called again?"

Rosmerta's lips twitched at the corners. "Sauce Béchamel on baked pasta," she said. "Or, perhaps, baked macaroni and cheese, is the more common term. I find that adding grated nutmeg to the sauce really helps the taste, though."

"You're a culinary genius," James said to her, having joined Sirius at their usual bar stools. "Nutmeg, eh?"

Rosmerta rolled her eyes, sharing a smirk with Lily. "Honestly, I've never met two boys so easily impressed by food," she laughed. "Though I do pity the poor woman who marries Mr. Black."

"Imagine," Lily shuddered seriously, "having to name your own child, Macaroniandcheese. It's really a rather horrid name, isn't it?"

Sirius shrugged. "Better than naming them after constellations," he muttered darkly. "Besides, I wouldn't name them that; I run out of breath just saying it. I'd name the first one Macaroni, the second one Cheese, and the third one Sauce Béchamel, because this sauce," he flicked his tongue out to capture some off the corner of his mouth at this point, "is worthy of a whole name in itself."

"Oh, really, Mr. Black?"

"Really, Madam Rosmerta," he said dramatically, having finished his plate. Staring at the now empty plate curiously, as though he had never seen an empty plate before, he looked up at her expectantly. "_Well?_"

"Well, what, Mr. Black?" she asked testily.

"The plates at our school never empty," he whined. "I need another plate of food, of course!"

"And you'll be paying for the next one, I presume?"

Sirius feigned offense. "_Me_? Not _pay_? Surely not!"

"You've been wheedling free lunches from me ever since I started working here!"

"But I pay for everything else! And this isn't even a lunch," he rationalized, "it's an afternoon meal. A nooner."

"Sirius Black! Never- _ever_- compare my cooking to… to…"

"It was a compliment! I didn't mean it that way…"

James caught Lily's eye and they both ducked out of the Three Broomsticks before bursting into laughter.

---

"So- where to now?"

Lily shrugged in reply, as they walked aimlessly about the Hogsmeade town. Glancing at her companion, she noted a smirk playing at his lips as he met her gaze. "What?" she asked self-consciously, reaching towards her hair. "Is something the matter with-"

"No," he replied nonchalantly. "I was just thinking of all those times in fifth year when I asked you out to Hogsmeade and you turned me down (rather spectacularly, by the way), and now, two years later…"

Lily colored. "Well," she replied rationally, "I said yes to Sirius. I'm only here with you now because he's in love with his food."

"Yes, well, that's your excuse." James ducked a glancing blow. He grinned in what he obviously thought was a very winning manner and said, "Admit it, Evans, you purposely sought out my company, just because you can't stand not to be around me for more than an hour."

Lily raised a brow. "I confess then," she said. "I can't stand not to be around you every hour of every day."

"Very good, Evans," he said. Then, at a pause, he said, "Tag, you're it."

Lily watched as he sped away. "What are we, five?" she muttered and raced after him.

They were already halfway back from the school at the top of a grassy hill when great, fat drops of rain had started to fall.

Having long since quit their impromptu game of tag (Lily had caught him after fifteen minutes), James sighed, glancing upwards and shielding his eyes from the drops of wetness pelting down. "Well, this is just fantastic," he muttered. "Just what I've always wanted- to be caught in the rain with no shelter in sight."

"Don't be such a stiff-necked git, James," Lily replied with the traces of a smile. She twirled around lightly, the rain catching on her hair and uniform. "The rain is something to enjoy… You know, let out the inner six year old."

"I thought that occasion happened in the event of snow?" he replied dryly.

"No, snow is the inner four year old," she answered as though everyone knew this. "The rain is a sign something good's going to happen, I know it."

"Really?" he said, watching her bemusedly. "It's usually a prophecy for gloom and doom, isn't it?"

She merely smiled and didn't reply.

"Evans, what are you doing?" he asked exasperatedly.

"I'm twirling," came the matter-of-fact answer. "It's quite a lot of fun- you should try it some time."

She tugged lightly on his sleeve as though to suggest he try it _now_. "C'mon, Potter. I know you; you can't be serious for more than five minutes. And Sirius would have your head for identity theft, anyway."

"Please tell me," James said, his mouth forming a slow smile, "that you did not just make a 'Sirius' pun?"

Lily shrugged, tilting her head back as the rain fell, sticking her clothes to her skin. "Twirl, Potter."

James lifted a brow at her, and, as she smiled encouragingly, he made a small twirl. "I feel like such a girl," he muttered.

"No, that's quite manly, you big strong man, you," she smirked.

James made a face.

"Oh, honestly- you need to let loose for a bit. Here- spin me for a bit, would you?"

He did.

"See? Not so difficult, is it?"

He noticed a few raindrops had caught on her eyelashes, which he thought was odd to notice, as the rain had pretty much soaked them through their clothing as it was. She didn't seem to notice, though, and was still twirling when he stopped spinning her. The world was spinning, spinning, spinning. She wondered what would happen if it stopped. Finally, she grew to dizzy and fell back on the hill.

Reaching up a hand, she pulled him down beside her, and the feeling of mushy, wet grass was on his back.

"I've been in this position far too many times now," he observed.

Lily made a face at him. "Don't talk to me about your ex-girlfriends when we're doing this," she grumbled. She didn't clarify what 'this' was, so he wisely chose to say nothing to that part of the comment.

"I was referring to Quidditch, actually," he laughed.

"Shut up, Potter."

He complied, and turned his head slightly to observe her. She was still looking skywards, blinking as raindrops hit her in the eye.

"I used to do this when I was younger, y'know."

"What, lie in muddy grass for no reason at all?"

"No, twirling," she said, turning to look at him as if he were daft. She turned her gaze back to the sky. "Petunia and I would twirl in the backyard in our best dresses, pretending we were fairy princesses, and take turns wearing the plastic tiara our father had won for us at a carnival."

James smiled slightly, feeling the wet grass on his cheek as he did so. This was important, somehow.

"We'd twirl and dance until we were too dizzy and collapsed, laughing all the way," Lily reminisced. Turning to face James, she said, "We don't do that, anymore."

"Well, I expect the two of you grew up."

"No, not twirling- but I suppose, come to think of it, we don't really do that, either," Lily said. "I meant laughing. My sister and I don't laugh anymore."

James wasn't quite sure what to say. He slid his hand into hers and laced her fingers with his. She glanced downwards at their hands and gave him a small smile. "You and I laugh, though, don't we?" she squeezed his hand lightly.

"We do," he agreed, squeezing back.

They were quiet, then, both contemplating, thinking. And then the moment passes, and they were reminded of how it wasn't safe to be this far from the castle without a crowd (_'how boring,'_ her six year old self complained), of how the dinner feast had surely started (_'just another five minutes, mum!'_ his six year old self called), and of how they had to go off and be grownups (_'so serious,'_ her six year old self observed them severely).

But even as they had stood up and let go, they weren't thinking of these harsh realities that had no place in fairy tales.

Because for one, shining moment, they had been just Lily and James.

Just Lily and James.

---

James Potter was hungry.

He usually wasn't the sort to skip meals, really (he loved food, food was one of the highlights of his evenings), but as he and one Lily Evans had stumbled into the Great Hall with too-fresh clothes for the afternoon, and still-wet hair from the shower, they had found the Great Hall pretty much abandoned, save for a few stragglers playing wizard's chess or doing homework.

"I'm hungry," he said, as though she should do something about it.

Lily looked at him exasperatedly. "Didn't you just eat at the Three Broomsticks?"

"A sample plate of baked macaroni and cheese from an hour ago hardly constitutes as 'just ate', Evans," he said. "Besides, between all that walking and running and twirling, I must have drained myself of any energy I received from that meal."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You and Black were made for each other, I swear," she muttered. "The way the two of you prattle on about feeling feint when you haven't had food within the hour…. And _you're_ supposed to be Gryffindor's star chaser, as well. A sorry lot our Quidditch team must be, when you don't have food during your longer games."

James's eye twinkled. "Are you done? Good. Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"The kitchens, of course. And don't tell me you have any reserves about sneaking down there- I've seen you accepting strawberry shortcake from the house-elves."

Lily opened her mouth to retort, but James had already grabbed her hand and was steering them in the direction of food.

---

"A trip to Hogsmeade, a walk in the rain, and dinner," James said slowly. He smiled easily at her across the square table. "C'mon, Evans, you have to admit, it is a little funny. Bet you're reconsidering all those times you took up with the Giant Squid rather than me, eh?"

Lily raised a brow. "I don't know what you're talking about, Potter," she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "And the Giant Squid was much better conversation than my present company."

James coughed loudly. "I'll have you know, I am a brilliant dinner talk conversationalist."

Lily smirked. "You barely said more than three sentences to me once the food arrived," she accused with a smile. "I thought it was quite a feat when you managed through the turkey leg, 'Pass me the butterbeer, would you?' Excellent conversationalist, indeed."

James shrugged as a few house elves cleared away the remnants of their dinner and bustled about with dessert.

"What time is it?"

"Erm… quarter to ten," James answered, glancing at his wrist. "Don't worry so much- I'm sure they wouldn't _dream_ of expelling the Head Girl just for sneaking to the kitchens. Besides, if we get caught, just tell them we were patrolling the hallways."

"I'm sure you know which excuses would work," she grumbled good naturedly.

James glanced up, but chose not to reply as the house elves had carried back two bowls of ice cream, and a tray of toppings.

Lily finished her mint chocolate chip quickly, and began eating the wriggling gummy worms at the bottom of her bowl one by one.

James glared at her from across the table.

"What?" she asked, popping one wriggling, transparent worm into her mouth, feeling it slither down the back of her throat. Kind of ticklish, really, and she repressed a shudder as she ate a second one.

"You're eating it wrong," he said crossly, with the air of an eight year old being told his favorite television show had been cancelled.

"Oh? And how do I eat it right?"

"You're supposed to eat the toppings with the ice cream, not save the toppings for last. It defeats the purpose."

Lily glared back. She reached onto the toppings tray and ate a moving gummy worm directly.

"See- that's wrong," he said. "If you just eat the toppings directly, they're not toppings at all. You might as well skip the ice cream altogether and just get the candy."

"But I like the ice cream," Lily countered. "Besides, what else are we going to do with extra toppings?"

James continued to glower for a few more seconds, before conceding to her point and reaching for a gummy himself. He tied the worm into a knot, bit off both ends, and then popped the knot into his mouth. At the strange look Lily gave him, he asked, mouthful of gummy, "What?"

She looked amused. "I could say you're eating that wrong," she mused, "but I hold to the belief that there is no wrong way to eat candy. But I have to ask- why do you _do_ that?"

James glanced at the second worm in his hands, which he was absentmindedly knotting as well.

"Oh- Remus and I found a bagful of them in a cupboard one day, when we were six. With our six year old logic, we decided to split the lot and see how many we could eat in one sitting. Naturally, all the sugar gets to you eventually, and we both had a terrible time being scolded for ruining our dinner appetites, and then throwing up… though the latter was infinitely worse," James grinned at the memory. "Two hundred and thirty-something little worms, slithering up my throat, looking to escape. Nasty, really. So now I knot them all just so that they don't move quite as much, and the knotted part has much more flavor anyway. You should try it sometime."

Lily glanced at the worm in her hand. "I don't think so; worms not moving takes the magic out of things."

"I twirled for you."

She frowned at the worm, then proceeded to knot it and eat it. She made a face. "Not that great, to be honest," she replied, grabbing a handful of mini-chocolate frogs and tadpoles and popping them into her mouth. She chewed on a few as they hopped frantically in her mouth. "At the very least, I've just solved James Potter Mystery #4361…"

James quirked a brow. "Any others you'd like answered?"

"Well," she said, licking off her fingers, "Why your hair never quite lies flat, why you're such an insufferable prat, and what it is you, Sirius, and Peter sneak off to do with Lupin ever full moon."

James glanced up at her, alarmed. "How d'you-"

It occurred to her that perhaps this was not the best thing to say, under the circumstances. "I was in the hospital wing once, back in fifth year. I saw the nurse smuggle him back into the hospital in the morning," she said. "And I remember the three of you sneaking in to visit him and telling him you'd managed something that would help, that he wouldn't have to be-"

"You can stop there, Evans."

Lily glanced up and noted traces of confusion, understanding, and anger flit across his features.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know you've done something stupid, as usual," Lily replied. Somehow, they had gone from talking about the frivolous, irrelevant things- joking about candy, and the like- to something else. Something serious. "Whatever it was- I didn't tell anyone," she said, more to pacify him than anything. "Don't accuse me of things I didn't do."

"I wasn't going to," he answered flatly.

Lily glanced at him. "You don't have to tell me, James," she said. "It was a joke."

His jaw was clenching as he stared at her, contemplating. "I'd tell you, but…"

"But you don't trust me?" she prompted.

James made a noncommittal sound. "Maybe," he shrugged. "It's just not really mine to tell, so… how much I trust you doesn't exactly matter, does it?"

Lily sighed and gave him a weak smile. "It was a stupid joke. I… Let's just go, shall we? It's almost past curfew, I'm willing to bet."

James nodded, and they left the kitchens, both dissatisfied with the conclusion of their conversation.

---

It had been an awkward trip back to the common room, Lily reflected, somewhat a result of the topic that had been brought up. She supposed she had no reason to feel offended- it wasn't as though she and James were confidants, who told each other everything. Actually, come to think of it, that idea sounded rather absurd, really.

Still, it hadn't helped to try and rationalize away the small stab of hurt she'd felt at not being deemed deserving enough to be told the darker aspects of his life. Not being deemed important enough.

She had thought they were friends, having shared so much over the past year, but realized there were still limits to their friendship. Limits as to how far in he would let her go. It was such a contrast to the caring person he could be sometimes. It had felt, when he danced with her, when he twirled her around, when he slid his hand comfortingly in hers, as though there might be a possibility of a possibility of something there…. But perhaps she had just imagined it.

She glanced at him, striding long steps so that she had to double her pace in an effort to keep up.

He had been angry at her for asking, she realized. Not just because she had asked about a subject they pretended didn't exist- but because she had ruined their game. Their dance. One where they only asked the hard questions when they both wanted or needed to, where they could continue their banter as though nothing had changes, where they could keep pretending everything was a little bit more normal that it was now. It had been one started out of necessity, to distract from the depression or despair thinking about her parents or his mum or the brewing war, or anything else that might have made life just a little bit more unbearable, anything else that might have chipped away at the sanity they clung to so desperately.

She wondered, though, if they would ever stop this dance of theirs.

He stopped.

They had reached the portrait hole. "Wimblemimble," James said. Turning to her, he said slowly, "I don't know why my hair never lies flat… I think it's genetic. And I can't help being a useless prat sometimes; I think it's a character trait, sorry."

An olive branch had been offered. She could accept it, and they could continue on their way, pretend as if nothing had happened. They hadn't stopped their dance- they had only stumbled.

She smiled slowly. "I _know_ you're a useless prat, James, honestly. You think I wouldn't have gathered this by living in the same house as you for the past seven years?" He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at her words, however slight. "Now move it, Potter, you're blocking the portrait hole."

He grinned at her, and stepped through, stopping so abruptly she collided into his back. "Professor McGonagall," he said warily. "We were just out patrolling the hallways; sorry, if we're late, we just-"

"Nevermind that, Potter, Evans. You two come with me," the Headmistress directed them, beckoning at them to follow her swiftly out the portrait hole, despite the fact that they had both just walked in through it.

"What is it, Professor?" Lily asked. She didn't think McGonagall's stern and thin-lipped expression was one regarding a small matter of breaking curfew. "What's happened?"

"It is my unfortunate duty to inform the two of you," here she gave a pitying sigh, "of... the outcome of some unfortunate events. I'm sure the two of you have heard the rising of this new wizard who calls himself the Dark Lord?"

James frowned. "Yes… but I thought it was already declining. Hasn't the ministry said they've caught a few of his followers?"

"Perhaps, Potter, but there are still plenty out their willing to do his bidding," she sighed. "All this… pureblood mania, as of late, has been the cause of quite a few… disturbances, to say the least, on both sides. But I won't delve into the political aspects of this tonight…"

"What is it, Professor?" Lily repeated anxiously.

"It's your friend, Leslie. She's dead. They're all… dead."

Lily blinked. "What do you mean, dead? Not… _dead_. And who else…?" Her voice trailed off uncertainly, sounding weak to her own ears.

"The Knight Bus was intercepted," McGonagall said. "All the students on board were killed."

"In an accident, you mean," James said, brows furrowed.

McGonagall clucked her tongue sympathetically. "I'm afraid, Potter, that there is no doubt this was no accident. It was a message to your Headmaster, to your school. Our school. They have taken this as a ways of… declaring war, I'm afraid."

"But… it makes no sense," Lily countered. She couldn't bear to think past this point. Leslie was dead. Dead. But she already knew what that word meant, and she couldn't bear to think of it. Not now, not here. Later, perhaps, when things were… real, again, she would. "Why would they target a bus full of students?"

"To send a message, Miss Evans," the Headmistress sighed. "A message that anyone who is to help us will be shown the same mercy. It is a disgusting, weak thing to do, and I assure the both of you action will be taken. No doubt, the Headmaster will want to speak to the students about it, but… until then, it is left upon the two of you, as Head Boy and Girl, to inform your fellow Gryffindors and help them handle the… shock. Not just that a friend and peer has died- but that this is merely the start of something greater. I leave it upon the two of you to reassure them of their safety, and their convictions that _we_ are on the right side of this… war."

Professor McGonagall drew herself up slightly at this. "Now… I must be off. Letters to write, things to sort out. Still, should anyone wish to speak to me or the Headmaster, you know where our offices are."

She hesitated slightly as she walked off, glancing back at them. "I'm truly sorry, to the both of you. I…"

She closed her mouth abruptly and left.

---

Lily stared after her, in disbelief. "Did I just imagine that? Did she just tell us…"

Beside her, James looked stricken. A petty argument of two minutes ago had vanished. "What do we do now?" he asked hoarsely. "What are we supposed to… How did she say…. I don't understand."

"I don't know," she answered his unfinished question.

"There's too much death," James whispered. "It was supposed to be over. It _was_ over. I don't…. it doesn't make sense."

Lily glanced up at him and slid her hand into his as he had done only a few hours before. "I don't think it was ever over…. I think it's only the beginning."

"The beginning of what? The beginning of the end of the world," he scoffed angrily, letting out a short laugh. There was too much crowding their thoughts, too much to think about, too much they wouldn't allow themselves to think about. He jerked his head in the direction of the common room. "What do we tell them?"

"I don't know."

"And Leslie?"

"I don't know."

She wouldn't think about that. Her friend was dead. The echoing 'dead' would come, eventually, but right now, she couldn't let herself hear it.

It was the beginning of the end of the world, as James had said dryly. He had been joking. It wasn't a funny joke. (_'She's dead now,'_ her six year old self said.) A war was starting. That would mean death would come in even greater numbers. How could they have missed this? How could they have not seen this? (_'She shouldn't have died.'_) There were so many questions, but she couldn't grasp on the answers. All were held just out of reach. (_'The world keeps spinning, spinning, spinning… but she's stopped.'_) She couldn't think of what was to come, yet. All she could focus on was the crushing despair of the moment. (_'I wondered what would happen if it stopped.'_) What had happened? (_'If the world stopped, do you think we'd notice?'_) She didn't know. (_She didn't know._)

She felt a squeeze on her hand. Glancing down, she saw James was gripping her hand tightly, tightly enough to hurt. But she didn't pull away, didn't ask him to pull away. She needed to feel this. (_'Have you stopped yet?'_)

"What are we going to do?" James asked desperately. (_'We have to stop eventually.'_)

"I don't know," she whispered again. (_'Useless, really, to keep on going.'_)

James stared at her, still grasping her fingers tightly. "Okay," he said softly. He glanced down at the hand in which he still had entangled with hers. "So we do this now."

It wasn't a question, but she had nodded.

"Yes. Together."

(_'We need to stop spinning now.'_)

James brushed a thumb over the back of her hand. "Thank you," he said.

(_'Aren't you getting dizzy?'_)

Her world had stopped spinning, for a moment, long enough for her to realize they had stopped. Stopped their dance.

(_'The world is still spinning, even if you've stopped.'_)

"You're welcome," she said with a sad sort of smile, even though she wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything but smile. To keep from breaking.

(_'Would you noticed if the world stopped spinning?'_)

The world was such an easy thing to shatter.

(_'It already has.'_)

Somehow, they would put the pieces back together.

_Together._

---

(A/N): And there you have it. Sorry, if the last bit was a little confusing… It was necessary, though, to show a bit of their frame of mind.

I'll be updating more frequently, I promise, mostly because, I think, the time has come for me to finish this fic. I've kind of grown out of it- after all, I've been writing it for three years. But, all the same, I can't bring myself to abandon it, so… yeah. See details at my livejournal, which is linked at my profile.

Much love to all of you!

And now I'm off to go wait for HBP…

Love from,

Y. Kuang

**To Come:** The beginning of the end of the world, and putting the pieces back together.


End file.
